Sanguine
by RinoaDestiny
Summary: Irony can be funny but it can also be brutally cruel. When Kazahaya and Co. find Rikuo one Christmas evening, laughter dies. How does Tsukiko tie into Rikuo's current condition, and can Kazahaya ever find the old Rikuo he once knew? Kazahaya x Rikuo
1. Blotted Black

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Note: I was playing around in my head with the concept of irony, since CLAMP seems to enjoy that so much. What if Kazahaya were to find Rikuo one night, during the same time of the season, but not in the same kind of situation? And what if Rikuo's plight is shaped by his past? It was an idea that sprang out of my love for Gohou Drug, and my frustration at CLAMP for its discontinuation. I also love Rikuo – what a guy. As for the honorifics, I'm only to use them when the person speaking is addressing someone - too many Kakei-sans, Saiga-sans, and Kudou-kuns are going to drive me nuts._

_Also, had to correct a few things. I kept seeing Kakei and Kazahaya as blond for some weird reason. Oops!_

_Disclaimer: Gohou Drug belongs to CLAMP in its entirety._

**CHAPTER 1**

It was such a sickening, frightening irony. The sepia-haired youth shook his head, unable to move forward. He shouldn't be seeing this on Christmas, late at night when the snow fell and turned cold on his skin. For once, he was grateful for Saiga's grip on his body, for he felt like fainting from horror and shock. Even Kakei, normally smiling and calm, had commented in disbelief, "Oh, this is a terrible turn of events."

For Kazahaya, "ironic" was the only word he could think of to apply to what they found. As if the memory of being lost that one winter, nearly frozen to death wasn't enough to nettle him, discovering Rikuo shattered his calm. For reasons that Rikuo wouldn't mention, he'd disappeared weeks ago, with nothing more than the clothes on his back. Kazahaya remembered the rain slicking the pavement that day. It was dark and cold, much like tonight. And Rikuo, introverted and hardened, left like a shadow from Green Drugstore that evening, slipping away into that torrent.

Rain had turned to snow. Snow should've been white, unmarked and pure. Not like this, Kazahaya thought as he forced himself to step forward, free of Saiga's comforting grip. He walked numbly towards the sheltered wall, towards the kneeling form of Kakei, and towards the shivering shadow he knew to be Rikuo. It should've been the Rikuo – arrogant, condescending, and infinitely superior – that he knew from several weeks back; however, it looked as if their roles had abruptly reversed.

There was something unsettling about that.

"Rikuo," he said softly, kneeling down to join his boss, disregarding the wetness seeping through his jeans. What he couldn't ignore were the large patches of sodden red, which marred the snow like raw open sores. Even in the faintly illuminated alley, he could see smears of blood on rough brick. He didn't want to touch the wall – he was afraid of what he'd see. But those fears fled to make room for tightness in his chest as he stared down at what should've been his brash peer. Rikuo Himura was not himself; perhaps, never would be again.

His skin was too drawn; too tight and shallow against his bones, Kazahaya thought. Already lightly tanned, Rikuo was now pale, with a pallor that approached the whiteness of death. His arms lay lifelessly on the snowy asphalt, already encased by a thin sheath of ice. One of them appeared to be broken or disjointed, for it lay at a strange angle. He had lost weight, and being perfectly hale next to him, Kazahaya felt as if Rikuo had shrunk in comparison; thinking back, it was funny how intimidating Rikuo used to be next to him. He saw Kakei's fingers gently brush back damp dark hair, and how Rikuo's pale green eyes rolled back even as his body arched, shuddering. His mouth moved but no words came out.

"Saiga!"

The dark-haired man reacted, his shaded face expressionless as he obeyed Kakei's command. "What is it, Kakei?" Rarely did Kazahaya see Saiga's contribution to their cause but now, he saw the older man in a new light besides being a dirty old lech and a dozing dead weight. When push came to shove, Saiga played a big role in their operations.

"We need to get him back into the drugstore, if not a hospital for treatment. He's trying to scream but he's lost his voice. Kudou-kun, break the ice around him."

"Okay." Ice cracked beneath his fingers, mingling with the bloodied slush around him, and Kazahaya grimaced distastefully. Busy though he was, he managed to get an eyeful more of Rikuo's condition than he'd wanted. Strips of torn clothing, probably ripped by Rikuo himself during a panicked moment, served as makeshift bandages over a severely lacerated torso and a mangled shoulder. The remains of his shirt barely covered his bruised chest, which exhibited patterns of yellow and dark-blue mottled patches like a rash. Kazahaya didn't even want to think about Rikuo's back. "Kakei-san, is this enough?"

He hoped it was.

"Good job, Kudou-kun. Saiga, give me a hand in lifting him."

"I'll lift him, Kakei. Don't get yourself all bloody." Gently, the suited man removed the youth from his frozen prison. Kazahaya winced as Rikuo suddenly reacted, his hand clenching as the ice ripped frozen flesh off his torn back. Rikuo's hand flailed, seeking Saiga's eyes, only to glance off his shades. "I told you these would come in handy," Saiga said flatly. "Kakei, do you have a tranquilizer on hand? Himura's getting violent."

"He would, wouldn't he?" The brown-haired owner of Green Drugstore stepped towards the two, and grasped the struggling boy's hand in his own. "Shhh, Rikuo. Don't worry – we found you. You're safe now." There was the faint gleam of sterilized steel, and the frantic rustling of clothing as Kazahaya witnessed the younger man's attempts to resist Kakei and Saiga. Saiga swore as Rikuo nearly fell out of his arms, and Kakei backed off to avoid stabbing the syringe into his face. With so much commotion, Kazahaya couldn't believe people didn't hear or notice them. Then again, that was what dark alleys were good for. He shuddered when he thought about the red streaks of blood on the wall.

What had happened beforehand?

Suddenly, he found himself face to face with Rikuo, who squirmed even now from Saiga's protective hold. Rikuo's eyes, once scornful and serious, were now filled with unmentionable terror that even Kazahaya could feel. The fear was tangible and the fairer-haired boy swore he saw tears in Rikuo's green eyes. He had never, in the time that he knew Rikuo Himura, seen him cry. He'd seen him looking down and stoic when Saiga once spoke to him long time ago, but besides that, Rikuo was either being an asshole or close to hitting on him for amusement.

There was none of that, now.

"Hold him, Saiga!" Kazahaya quickly shifted as strong hands came around to grip Rikuo's shoulders, looking like manacles about to break porcelain. Rikuo, for all of his height, appeared scrawny and fragile; if anyone wanted to break his neck, one hand would be enough. The thought unnerved him, and Kazahaya, without thinking, reached forward to gently grab the grimy hands of his co-worker. As he did, the beginnings of Rikuo's nightmare-filled world opened before him.

The older boy could only react in one way to that kind of hell.

Kazahaya screamed.

"Kakei! The tranquilizer! Hurry!"

There was blood and pain, sweat and tears. There was defiance, a challenge – but of what kind, Kazahaya couldn't tell. He was being drowned in these bloody images, crushed beneath Rikuo's suppressed despair and overwhelming sense of defeat. Jigsaw puzzles of words, phrases, of harsh laughter, and the gleam of a knife. Surmounting horror, swept over by something blacker. And in the darkness, in that stifling void, a figure stood out; it was a woman's form, elegant and bloodstained. Every other fragmented image faded before that enigma; that shadow.

Tsukiko.

Then, Tsukiko faded as well, and Rikuo's hands stilled in his. "Kakei!" He faintly heard Saiga say. "Tend to the other one. I'm taking Rikuo back to the store." Those cold hands – with callused and broken fingers – slipped out of his grasp.

"Kudou-kun!"

Kazahaya fainted.


	2. Hospice White

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Notes: Because I'm going to be alluding to Legal Drug, Vol. 3 (due out in June from Tokyopop), I'm going to recommend a site that has downloads of a translated scan of Vol. 3: Remedy. It's rather easy to find on Google. __This way, I can avoid infuriating and spoiling a bunch of fans, and perhaps a sneak peek at the upcoming volume won't be so bad, either._

**CHAPTER 2**

He slept, and did not dream. It was a peaceful sleep, undisturbed with the benefit of being nice and long. For many nights after Rikuo's disappearance, Kazahaya was able to enjoy the sensation of floating away on a pleasant level of unconsciousness without being rudely awoken. Kakei-san had reassured him about his teammate's safety the day he found Rikuo missing, so Kazahaya let the feelings of unease pass. Now, wrapped in his blankets and comforter like a butterfly in a cocoon, he was warm, drifting, and blissfully aware of his limbs being sprawled across the pillow and the crisp white sheets. The furriness of the comforter rubbed against his cheek, and he sighed. Light from the window spilled into the room, bathing it in a chilly white glow. It was too comfortable; too irresistibly perfect after such a tumultuous night. Life should've gone back to being normal, but as usual, it enjoyed playing smoke and mirrors with him.

Having found Rikuo, perhaps he'd expected a painful wake-up call.

That was what probably awoke him.

Kazahaya blinked, lime-green eyes half-open against the winter light. Groaning wholeheartedly at the prospect of another day of work, he forced himself to his knees and twisted his torso. The sound of his spine popping free from its cramped restraints eased his discomfort but niggled at something dark in his mind. Disregarding it for the moment, he pulled on his work shirt, mumbling something about it being his turn to cook breakfast.

His fingers stopped, and his heart plummeted.

It was oddly silent in the apartment – it shouldn't have been. Not when it was usually Rikuo's self-made job to wake him by stomping him with his foot or throwing his shoe on his stomach. Not when Rikuo and he often jibed at each other; himself, annoyed while Rikuo teased him about anything from his virginity to his apparent tardiness. Not when even Kakei-san and Saiga-san joined in on the teasing once the shop opened first thing in the morning. A glance at the alarm clock confirmed the rising feeling of dread in his gut.

He _was_ late, and where was Rikuo?

Thinking back to the night before only jolted him into tugging on his work slacks as fast as he could. Rikuo was – _is_, he amended in his head – injured, and badly, too. He couldn't make much sense out of the memories that he'd channeled from his roommate, for they were jumbled and broken – much like Rikuo was himself. Tsukiko, however, was there, glimmering in his thoughts like a star. Out of all of the times that he'd seen into the stoic and annoying boy's past, she was there. Tsukiko was always there – never forgotten; much like how Kei haunted his dreams.

Upon realization of last night's incident, Kei faded into the background. What he glimpsed from that dark corner in his mind was the image of the tall, lanky, and heavily-built boy with eyes like hard green ice lying curled up against a bloodied wall, on crimson-stained snow, shivering from not only the cold but from a wound deeper within. Rikuo's wildly troubled eyes bothered Kazahaya more than he'd like to admit. Those eyes, shadowed and dilated, were utterly afraid; leaving him wholly paralyzed by something that none of them could yet comprehend. It was enough to have found him, Kazahaya told himself as he dashed for the curtain, ripping it aside. It was enough. Should've been enough.

But it wasn't, and he knew it.

He stopped upon reaching Rikuo's room, startled by the slight form of Kakei sitting by Rikuo's bedside. The same chilly light shone through the paned glass; however, Kazahaya felt as if he'd walked into a hospital with whitewashed walls. Unlike his room, Rikuo's smelled like medicine and decay. Quietly approaching the two, he noticed the glass of water on the nightstand, complete with a thermometer and an accompanying roll of bandages. And gleaming on the side, as if abandoned, was an empty syringe.

"Kakei-san, how is he?"

The owner of Green Drugstore rubbed wearily at his eyes, dislodging his glasses. "He's in need of rest, Kudou-kun. He woke up during the night, delirious, and started panicking. We did what we could but he wouldn't listen to us. It was like as if we weren't there with him. As you see, we had to tranquilize him again." Kakei arched against the metal backing of the chair and stretched, fingers interlocked until the faint sheen of bone appeared beneath his skin. "Saiga and I took shifts to watch him. You slept rather well, though."

Kazahaya blushed. "I did?"

"Yes, you did," Kakei said gently. "At first, I was afraid that Rikuo's memories had overwhelmed you again but it seemed like just a passing spell. You were mostly tired, I presume." Kakei yawned, and then shook his head. "Like I am, at the moment."

"Is the store going to open today?"

"No."

"Oh." It sounded lame coming from him, but it took Kazahaya by surprise. The drugstore rarely closed its doors, unless if it were for an emergency. Rikuo being battered, torn, bruised, and scarred certainly counted as such. In the short amount of time that they knew each other, the four of them had become like a rambunctious family: Saiga-san with his quirky mannerisms and his trademark shades; Kakei-san with his motherly attitude and oh-so-frightening alter ego; himself with his short tempers and inclination for embarrassment; and, Rikuo with his snide comments and his marvelous ability to care hidden behind a stony face. It was because they had become family that he was able to stand here, calmly chatting to Kakei-san, all the while heeding the incessant pain in his heart.

"Kudou-kun, you don't mind watching over him for me, do you?"

"No." It was an honest answer. "Why?"

"Well, I've been watching him since seven. And I'm tired. You just woke up, and since you won't have to work today…how about taking over for me? Consider it your duty for today."

He smiled. "I'll do it, Kakei-san."

"I thought you would, Kudou-kun. After all, he is your friend, whether you choose to believe it or not. And he needs you right now. He needs all of us, whether or not _he_ chooses to believe it or not. Just one thing –"

"Yeah?"

The chair rattled as Kakei stood, nearly swaying over with exhaustion. "Don't touch him unless you have to. The last thing we need is for you to pass out like last night. If he wakes up or starts having nightmares, talk to him. If you can't do anything about it, let one of us know. We'll be downstairs in the break room. Just knock on the door or shout. We'll hear you."

"Will do."

"Thank you, Kudou-kun. I left some oatmeal and applesauce in the pantry, in case Rikuo wakes up hungry. I also bought an extra pack of bacon for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some sleep." The slender form of the young psychic disappeared around the corner of the door, leaving only the swaying drape of curtain as a lingering sign of his presence.

Sighing, Kazahaya sat down, scraping the chair legs against the floor as he dragged it closer to the bed. Leaning forward, he peered down at Rikuo. Strange, how sleep – no matter how drugged – smoothed out the stress and scowl lines on his face. Rikuo Himura looked younger, albeit they were both eighteen – and Rikuo was a few months behind him in terms of years. If it wasn't for the puffy, bruised patch on his right cheekbone, the empath would've called him handsome.

Kazahaya blushed and buried his face in his hands.

Since when did he start thinking like that about his co-worker? About Rikuo, the one guy that he swore to get revenge against for the many humiliations he'd been subjected to? True, Rikuo was a bastard when he chose to be. True, that "job" in that all-boys school opened his eyes to the overall attractiveness of his stronger partner. True, Rikuo could be caring and gentle, if not a bit peeved about constantly saving his sorry ass. And also true was that no matter what Rikuo did to embarrass him in the past, Kazahaya would never wish this kind of punishment on him.

No one deserved this kind of treatment. He was glad to see that Saiga-san and Kakei-san had wrapped the worst of the wounds in bandages. The lacerations bled heavily last night, he recalled with a shiver. Something or someone had it out on Rikuo, and until Rikuo came to and spoke, none of them would truly know what happened. Dropping his hands into his lap, Kazahaya glanced glumly at the unconscious body lying across from him. Only he could figure it out. Only he, with his empathic powers, could reach into the mind and memories of Rikuo Himura, and unravel the tortured threads that he'd been ambushed with the night before. If only Kakei-san hadn't placed such a strong condition upon him, he would be doing something by now. He knew it was for his own good; nevertheless, he couldn't just sit here and watch.

He'd also told Rikuo that he wouldn't dig through his memories, and that was akin to a promise. So out flew that idea, he mused miserably.

Neither was he too eager to upset Kakei-san by making a fool out of himself.

There was only one thing he could do to remove himself from this situation – dunk his head into a bathtub full of hot water and get out of his work clothes. They were as stifling and rigid as the atmosphere in here, and Kazahaya wanted none of that for the moment.

* * *

When he finished his bath and crept back into the room, dressed in a casual shirt and hand-me-down jeans salvaged from god-knows-where, Rikuo was still sleeping. He threw the empty syringe into the trash basket next to the nightstand, and remained standing. The light outside was no longer as brilliant or as icy; instead, it had mellowed with the hours, turning warm and subdued. Rikuo's room shone with a golden glow. It was quite a difference, and Kazahaya liked it. 

_If only._ He had a lot of "if only" in his vocabulary today. If only Rikuo would awaken, showing the jade flicker of irises. If only he would move, even goddamn twitch, things might start going back to normal. He wondered - not for the first time - how many doses of the tranquilizer Kakei-san gave to the boy to put him into this state. Rikuo's voice was also shot, according to his boss. If only he would wake up and talk. Say something – say anything. This silence, this futile waiting, drove Kazahaya insane.

It was like waiting for a comatose patient to recover.

"I can't believe it's you lying there," he finally said, breaking the stale silence. "All of this time, you were worried about me. About saving my ass from trouble. And now, it's you lying there. Why did you leave us, Rikuo? Where did you go, and what _happened_ to you?"

There was no reply.

He hadn't expected any. Sitting down, he gazed upon that weary face, hoping for a flicker of the eyelids. Nothing. Kazahaya sighed for the umpteenth time that day. Behind those closed lids were eyes that seared one with its green gaze, cut with its emerald scorn, and softened with verdant reminiscence. He longed to see them again. Yearned to hear that deep voice scoff at his many mistakes or his naivety, or laugh at his blushing reaction to many well-placed innuendos.

Instead, he looked down to find a shell, with its inhabitant bound in bloodstained wrappings. Kakei-san apparently saw what he witnessed last night – that Rikuo had a broken arm. Splinted and slung, the limb lay across Rikuo's chest, which imperceptibly rose and fell. Shadowed though his eyes were, the dark lashes brushed pale skin. With the soft white shirt covering majority of his body, the bared flesh appeared whiter, compounded by the scattering of bruises that were oh-so-dark.

Kazahaya wished that that darkness wouldn't be in his eyes.

Rising from the chair once again, he took his leave, using the rumbling of his stomach as his excuse to get away. He'd run before, away from Kei. He ran now, away from that alien being that should've been his early-morning alarm clock – with heavy shoes, nonetheless – and his source of rowdy entertainment throughout the day. He ran to the kitchen to fry some bacon and eggs, to fill his stomach to settle a certain kind of pain. The other source of pain, he knew without a doubt, would continue so as long as Rikuo lay there, unresponsive.

Because he had to admit something that he'd never thought he would miss.

He missed Rikuo, with his brashness and roughness. He missed the yelling, the laughter, the joking, and the camaraderie. He missed all of those things that made life at Green Drugstore memorable.

He wanted Rikuo back.


	3. Scattered Gray

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 3**

Rikuo woke up around seven. It didn't matter that those green eyes beheld him with apprehension and fright – at least they were open and staring at him. Closing the window to cut off the flow of icy wind, Kazahaya returned his gaze to that of the taller male. Seven o'clock, with the winter night blackening the panes of glass and it was only the day after Christmas.

He would never forget this day, or the time.

"Rikuo. It's me, Kazahaya." Slowly, he turned his steps towards the bed that used to hold a large, compact, and muscular body. Now, with the white sheets slipping off pallid flesh and the starkness of bandages, the bed seemed to swallow Rikuo's frail frame whole. Black hair slipped into panicked pools that begged him not to approach, but he did. That pale mouth, cracked and only recently wetted with water, worked soundlessly in silent protest. Splinted fingers on one hand waved stiffly, while the other arm lay limply upon wrinkled fabric. As he drew nearer, Rikuo shrank against the wall, shriveling into himself.

The sight was painful to see.

"Don't you recognize me?" A glimmer of fear into emerald, and the corner hugged the boy's trembling body as bony knees jammed into a scrawny chest. The mattress whined softly as he sat, gazing in pity and sadness at what Rikuo had become. Kazahaya wanted nothing more than to reach out, touch him, and reassure him that things were going to be all right. He remembered how gently Kakei-san smoothed back those dark locks, yet he could not bring himself to do so. It wasn't time for him to dig into Rikuo's shattered psyche, yet.

Not just yet.

"You must be hungry," he continued. As scared as Rikuo looked, he must've been longing for food and water; Kazahaya swore he could see bones through Rikuo's arms. Whatever had happened must've been terribly traumatic to silence him this effectively. It would also be the probable cause to the tight sheen of drawn skin and the beaded sweat glistening on his face. "Rikuo, I know you can't talk but would you like some food? I can get some for you – it'll just be a minute."

A visible shake of the head. No. No.

As luck would have it, Kazahaya thought glumly. Kakei-san and Saiga-san would still be sleeping – most likely cuddled together – and here he was, feeling all in the world like he was trapping Rikuo with his presence. He dared not leave him but he didn't want to be the one giving Rikuo a third trip into whatever hellish nightmare he'd been through. In the soft glow of the mini-desk lamp he'd placed on Rikuo's nightstand a few hours ago, the dark bruises were more starkly apparent. Rikuo's cheekbone was one patch of black, nearly swelling the bottom lid of his eye. His lip was torn. Marks clustered on his neck, as if someone tried to strangle him.

Who in the world would want Rikuo Himura dead?

_Tsukiko._ She had to be one of the reasons why Rikuo was like this. She had to be the key in this whole bizarre mystery. And the damnable thing about that was he didn't know how she fitted into it all. Still, it was a beginning to unraveling the events surrounding his damaged partner in psychic assignments.

Kazahaya sighed.

"It's five minutes after seven, Rikuo. It's night time, after Christmas, and you're sitting in Green Drugstore. I'm Kazahaya – you know, the one you often mock and save over and over again? The pristine virgin, so you've called me. The innocent princess. I'll be the one taking care of you until Kakei-san and Saiga-san wake up. You remember them, don't you?"

Silence.

This wasn't working. Kazahaya clenched his fingers together, ignoring the bite of his nails. He wanted to lash out and hit something. He had never been so useless, so unable to deal with something by himself. That frustrated him to the point of anger. There was nothing he _could_ do until Rikuo stopped staring at him, regained his voice, and decided to tell all. If he ever decided to talk again. The implications should he not were sobering. Kazahaya didn't wish to dwell on them. "I won't hurt you. Please, Rikuo – trust me."

Nothing.

There was no response, no reaction. Blank. It was as if Rikuo didn't exist.

The thought unnerved Kazahaya. To have him back, and yet, to lose him. From that revelation burned rage, mingled with the faintest touch of desperation and longing. The words were carelessly flung out, before he could take them back. "Bastard! How dare you sit there, looking at me like that? Do you know how worried I was about you when you just up and left? Kakei-san told me you were all right, and then we found you yesterday. Does that bring back any memories? Do you remember saving me?" The fact that Rikuo, even detached, goaded him increased that ache. "You saved me, and I want to save you. But I can't do that when you don't even recognize me!"

If he still believed in the ancient gods of his ancestors, he would've stricken his tongue off as penance and begged them for their blessing. Kazahaya remembered being furious, blowing his cool simply due to Rikuo's smugness. However, Rikuo was no longer the same; neither was he. He had lost his temper over his own pettiness, leaving behind quite an unfriendly impression. Afraid of how Rikuo was going to react – _please don't fear me,_ he wanted to say – it took sheer willpower to look him in the face.

There was silence, interrupted in his mind by the thumping of his heart.

What he saw next almost broke it.

Rikuo was crying. The boy's face was turned aside but the gleam of tears was unmistakable. _Dammit!_ He couldn't just sit here, with the mattress sinking beneath him while Rikuo became a shadow of himself. Kazahaya nearly palmed himself in the face. _You idiot,_ he thought contemptuously. _He's already far from being the guy you once knew._ Unwilling to remain frozen in place, he scooted closer. Gray upon white as the shadows fell, and those pale eyes flicked tiredly towards him. There was anguish, terror, and mistrust – most of them banked by the deep exhaustion he could see etched in Rikuo's posture. There was also a sign of recognition.

And then, he spoke.

Having practiced the art of lip-reading from Kei, Kazahaya felt the broken pieces of his heart collect themselves before jolting around painfully in his chest. Rikuo had said his name. Four syllables, one for every katakana and hiragana symbol out there. All four of them, combined with his specific kanji, created his name. Only his parents and Kei had ever said it so lovingly. Now, watching Rikuo's lips move, intensified by that questioning expression, Kazahaya dared not hope. He was being asked his name; it was tantamount to Rikuo placing his welfare and trust into his hands.

He wondered if Kakei-san knew this would be the outcome.

Undoubtedly, he did.

"Ka-za-ha-ya?" Again, Kazahaya read his name, speaking it out loud this time. He desperately longed to cry. This shouldn't be affecting him so but it was. "Yeah, Rikuo. It's me, Kazahaya."

Dark lashes momentarily obscured those hurting mirrors from which the fairer-haired boy could see himself. When they revealed themselves, jade to lime, and both of them eye-to-eye, some weight appeared to have settled within Rikuo. Kazahaya could see the heaviness clouding his face, drawing a gray cast over his gaunt features. The guy that used to throw off all forms of stress, shrugging aside his discomfort with pithy statements, now had nothing to say. The hurt within was too strong, too cutting to be simply discarded.

And most, if not all, probably narrowed down to that girl.

_Tsukiko._

Another word, hanging soundlessly in space. "_Midori?" _Rikuo had asked. Kazahaya nodded, pointing downstairs to what would be the shop. It was closed today because of Rikuo. "Green Drugstore, Rikuo. Why did you ask that?"

A shake of the head. Whatever it was, his partner wasn't ready to state it, yet.

Kazahaya shook his head; bits of brown hair scattered and slid lazily into his eyes. Ignoring them, he slid off the bed, ready to leave. He couldn't sleep in Rikuo's, let alone experience the nightmares from such contact. He was bone-tired from playing nurse all day – gods knew he needed some quiet time. Perhaps if his bosses were awake, he could let them replace him. He couldn't even touch Rikuo, for fear of receiving his inner trauma. Kakei-san had explicitly warned him against that.

It was the sudden sharp squeak of the bed that halted his steps. "Rikuo?"

_"Don't leave me."_

His throat constricted, and Kazahaya knew he was on the verge of tears. Lip-reading had never induced him to this before. Why was he feeling this way, and how come Rikuo was the one causing it? If someone told him a few months ago that he would miss Rikuo, he would've thrown one hell of a ruckus. Not anymore. It should've been him lying there, weak and forlorn, depending on Rikuo. He was the dumb one, after all. Rikuo said so. But he wasn't the one that ran into the night, disappeared for weeks, and then reappeared in a bloodied and frozen heap on the freshly-fallen snow.

The world was a cruel place, and Rikuo had tangled with it and lost.

He needed Rikuo but Rikuo needed him more. That was the harsh truth – nothing he said or did could deny that. Nothing Rikuo did could negate it. Kakei-san was right. Despite how they were before this happened, they had both changed. And seeing that clearly, recognizing the situation like when Rikuo finally noticed him not as a stranger but as a friend, Kazahaya could only do his part.

Dragging his chair closer to the bed, he sat and smiled. Smiled and yearned to cry.

"No, Rikuo. I won't."

**_Author's Notes_**

Thank you readers for all of the comments, the watches, and the favs. smiles It is a pleasure to be able to join the Gohou/Legal Drug fanfic community, and I hope I can continue to do so. After all, when CLAMP gives us two perfectly funny, argumentative, and slashy characters such as Rikuo and Kazahaya, something must be done. I just wish the elusive Vol. 4 gets over here. I want more scenes like the chocolate scene, damn it! That was surprisingly hilarious and hot!

RD


	4. Fogged Blue

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 4**

Stillness like the silent angle of darkness obscured his vision, and the soft beams of a lamp broke it, scattering it with light and sound. A deliberate shuffling of paper as a sheet of white came into focus. It reflected off the glossiness of a plastic alarm clock, snow-white upon red numbers, as if each contrasted the other for effect. With the darkness dispelled, it became clear that the paper lay on a desk, with its owner evidently still nearby. A quick glance around brought an image of a somber-faced youth with flat green eyes, walking reluctantly towards the table. A pencil shifted in his hands, sliding down long unbroken fingers.

Malachite glass set into a face that tightened to the sheen of marble, they stared hollowly at the empty page before those fingers nudged the pencil in place. Black characters, scripted by a nervous hand, cluttered tightly along the lines, uneven and slanted. They were barely legible. Yet, a few words stood out, particularly two names that he knew. One was his; the other belonged to a missing girl. And the writer of them was none other than his roommate, Rikuo. The only other time he'd ever seen Rikuo so flustered was during that chocolate incident, but this ran deeper. This had something to do with Tsukiko and him, and Kazahaya damned the fact that Rikuo's penmanship for once was sloppy.

The pencil stopped midway through its progression down the page, its tip splintering off in a spray of graphite. Rikuo's fingers clenched, heightening the whiteness of his knuckles. Those pale eyes closed, followed by the light clatter of the pencil hitting the floor. Something in the boy's posture and expression broke as he reached out, took the paper in hand, and methodically began to rip it to pieces. The shreds drifted down, light and soft and forgotten. Rikuo disappeared and the lamp went dim. He watched as the faint shadow of his partner brushed against the wall, jacket in hand. And then, Rikuo was gone, melded into midnight and lost into dawn.

Kazahaya blinked as the first glow of the morning sank in through his eyelids. Beneath his crossed arms, he felt something thick and warm, and upon opening his eyes, realized that he was using Rikuo's blanket as a pillow. Shaking himself awake, he ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. Obviously, he didn't need to be in contact with Rikuo in order to pick up on memories and the like. The two times he'd read cravings and painful yearnings from the formerly stolid male, it was through a shoe and holding hands. Direct contact was more powerful, but Kazahaya knew that the knowledge gleaned could also affect him.

So _what_ was that sliver of memory? Was it the evening Rikuo abandoned them? The emptiness and pain that permeated the imaging bore into him, sharp and unmerciful. It was a different kind of agony compared to the one he felt two nights ago – that had simply been horrid. It was physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. It was a fourfold rip across all that he knew held a person together, and as his gaze rested on Rikuo's pale face, he understood. Even after requesting his presence last night, Rikuo hadn't slept well.

He felt distraught at seeing how Rikuo slept. Usually, the big lug was all limbs and body, his muscular frame sprawled out from headboard to end. He normally made quite a mess, with his gangly arms and legs, not to mention a pillow or two. But now – now, his arms and legs were pulled into a fetal position, as his back gripped the wall, widening the gap between them. He had screamed last night, Kazahaya mournfully remembered. Screamed without a voice, while his body strained against tortures that he could not see. Whenever the nightmares came, it left both of them wrung out. The worst was seeing those eyes intensify with horror, filling with tears, and being unable to comfort him.

He had never wanted to see Rikuo like that.

"Rikuo, what happened?" he whispered, knowing that it was going to be an eternal question simply because Rikuo would never tell him everything. It was like Rikuo to do that, to hold something back until _he_ found out why. But by that time, he would end up being a fool, things would go out of hand, and danger would escalate. For Rikuo's sake – Kazahaya wasn't sure he was safe, yet – he hoped that his partner would talk. The vision disturbed him, for it was a side of Rikuo Himura that he'd scarcely seen. Even before they found him broken and traumatized, severely damaged and highly hysterical, Rikuo was already falling apart.

Apparently, part of it was over Tsukiko and him. What about it, though?

Kazahaya pursed his lips, uncertain where to take that train of thought. It was worth thinking about, but the answers weren't his for the taking. What he'd seen was given to him by chance, having fallen asleep on top of Rikuo's blanket while watching over him the night before. It was a start – a small one. There had to be a key there, and he wondered if Kakei-san knew about it. It wouldn't hurt to ask, unless he somehow wound up awakening his boss's creepy side.

That, unfortunately, was a risk Kazahaya knew he'd have to hazard. Add to that an extra groping from Saiga-san, and it was the start of a normal day – if anyone could look at his friend and the circumstances and call it "normal." To this day, he considered their unconventional family one of the craziest out there. Truly, though, he had no better, or else why would he run from Kei and his sheltered upbringing, nearly killing himself during a snowstorm? On the heels of that question followed another. If their strange relations were so familiar, why did Rikuo – usually the one with his feet earthbound instead of having his head in the clouds – bolt? It made no sense.

No. Of course it did. _Tsukiko._ Always Tsukiko.

Allowing himself a feline yawn, Kazahaya slowly removed himself from Rikuo's coverlet. He ached to touch the soft slope of the older-looking boy's shoulder, to cling to the hope that as long as Rikuo lived, there was a chance. To remind himself that Rikuo was warm, still breathed, and had time to heal.

Nonetheless, the haunting vision lingered. Kazahaya reluctantly withdrew from the room, dragging his feet, unable to keep from glancing back at the pathetic figure on the bed.

He could not.

* * *

"Kakei-san, I saw something this morning." He had an easier time saying that after the initial shock of finding his boss tangled in the sheets with his brawny lover. If only Rikuo could see him at that moment, cheeks flushed upon stumbling into what appeared to be an intimate scene. No wonder one of the common rules of courtesy was to always knock. He had forgotten that in this madcap place. Fortunately, it was nothing of the sort, and after a hearty chuckle from Saiga, joined by Kakei's amused smile, business turned serious. 

Glass gleamed as Green Drugstore's owner tilted his head. "Didn't I warn you in explicit terms not to touch Rikuo no matter the circumstances? You should have told one of us."

"It wasn't intended," he explained, fidgeting beneath Kakei's stern gaze. "I had fallen asleep on top of one of Rikuo's blankets while sitting in his chair. I couldn't have touched him anyways," he said, bitterly aware of the misery in his voice. "He had plastered himself against the wall, curled up like a baby. He screamed during his sleep, and I couldn't even comfort him. I don't know how to."

"Kakei –"

"Not yet, Saiga." Although Kakei's tone was mild, Kazahaya could sense the trepidation beneath it. "Tell me exactly what you saw, Kudou-kun. Leave nothing out."

"Well, I saw a dark empty room. There was no one there at first, but suddenly the light turned on and I heard some paper being shuffled. One of them landed on a desk near an alarm clock. The paper was blank. Then, after looking around, I saw someone in there with me. It was Rikuo." Taking a breather, he continued. "He had a pencil in his hand, and he started writing some messy characters down on the page. I saw my name and Tsukiko's name show up time and time again, as if he couldn't get us out of his head. He looked unhappy, conflicted. Then, he stopped writing and tore up what he wrote. After that, he left."

"What time was it in that vision, Kudou-kun?"

"Around midnight, I suppose. But it was hard to tell, with the light and all."

A sagely nod. "It sounds like the night he left us several weeks ago, doesn't it, Saiga?" Chestnut eyes turned upwards, haloed by elegant spectacles as they met with black shades. "From what Kudou-kun said, it seems like Rikuo was torn between Tsukiko and Kazahaya. I wonder if he had trouble deciding who was more important to him. After all, he had taken to both, and hasn't denied it."

The break room couch suddenly felt impossibly hard. "What do you mean by that, Kakei-san?" He was sure he was blushing – goddamn his fair complexion to hell. "Why should he have any difficulty with that?"

"How do I put this lightly, Kudou-kun?" A beat of silence. "Rikuo has loved Tsukiko for most of his life, having stayed with her and protected her at all costs. When she disappeared and he came back to find her place a room of blood, he couldn't take it. That's why we took him in – he had become a danger to himself. He was so obsessed with finding her that nothing else mattered. When Saiga found him, Rikuo was living on the streets, supporting himself in any way possible. It was not a safe lifestyle, but you should understand why he lived that way. He was sure she was kidnapped by street thugs, or someone powerful and linked to the criminal underworld. So he thought by becoming a degenerate, he could get closer to her whereabouts."

"Why are you telling me all of this? Wouldn't Rikuo kill us if he found out you told me about him?"

"There's good reason for you to know this because Rikuo has given you the same consideration. For all of the bickering you two do, he's really concerned about you. It took Saiga a long time to talk Rikuo out of his self-destructive behavior, and the only inkling we have left of that is his overwhelming urge to find Tsukiko. Now that he's seeing you in the same way, he's terribly afraid of losing you as well. Remember, Kudou-kun – with all of the jobs and experiences you two have been through, he's been the one with the most to lose. If any of those tasks had gone awry and left you for dead, I don't know how he'll react."

In that instant, Kazahaya's world dwindled to an extreme focus, leaving him baffled and stunned. There was simply too much information to process, and too much of it was about the enigma upstairs. Instead of answering his questions, it merely gave him more to think about. "What _was_ Rikuo doing when Saiga-san found him, Kakei-san?"

"Saiga?" It wasn't a hint but a command.

"He had come very close to bartering himself away for food and shelter. I found him with blood on his hands after someone tried to 'persuade' him to do so. If I hadn't shown up, I believe he would've sold himself a few days later, or been taken by others. He was like you, boy – close to death, and dying on the inside."

"Like now."

An uncertain pause. "Yes, Kudou-kun – like now."

* * *

Returning to the laughter, the happiness, the mockery, and the way life used to be was impossible. Not after what he'd learned. Not after last night, or the evening before, when he'd held the trembling boy's hands, and seen flashes of what had been. Not after all of that. There was no way back for him now. 

There was no way back for Rikuo, or if there was, it was going to be brutally unfair.

Kazahaya cried then, out of frustration and despair. Green Drugstore was opening its doors today, and he couldn't bring himself to don on his work clothes and join Kakei-san and Saiga-san downstairs. He was in no mood to stock shelves, to sweep the floors, or to watch giggling girls inquire about Rikuo's absence. He had finished preparing breakfast and brought it over to Rikuo's room, where the sight of the curled figure brought him to tears. Then, he'd noticed the desk lamp and alarm clock nearby, and completely lost it.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Lifting his head, trying to avoid staring at the vulnerable form of his friend lying unconscious across from where he sat, Kazahaya turned towards the sound. It was coming from outside. Slipping out of the metal-backed chair, he moved towards the door, unaware that he slinked forward like a cat.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

Opening the door delivered a freshly-taped note on the other side. Curious, and positively sure that it was the work of Kakei-san, he lifted it off, deciding to read its contents inside. The door closed silently; a small click the only noise made as the lock did its work. The paper crinkled in his hand, reminding him of the vision he had.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Kudou-kun," he read, "I know you're feeling miserable, especially since you've gotten close to Rikuo despite all of your protests. Telling you all of that wasn't easy for us, but we decided it had to be told. You'll be carrying Rikuo in your arms from now on; in this, we believe both of you can heal. What you saw was a gift, and I think that as the days go by, you'll start piecing things together. I know you want to cry over Rikuo. I know you very well, Kudou-kun. Believe me when I say that."

Kazahaya believed it. How would he not?

"Therefore, if you don't want to come to work today, or for the rest of the week, it's okay. There will be no more side jobs, as I know Rikuo and you need to work as a team. Since he's unable to work, and you're not feeling well yourself, consider it an extended holiday. Let me know if there are any problems. Kakei."

It was a blessing. It truly was. He could almost pray.

_Thank you._


	5. Blurred Reds

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC **

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 5**

As it turned out, he really needed that extended holiday.

Bringing Rikuo out from whatever brink he'd fallen into was only going to get tougher, Kazahaya thought as he plunged his hand into the rice pot, swirling the grains to rid them of their powdery coating. The circles of water turned and dipped in on itself, echoing the turmoil within his head. The first time Rikuo brought him back, his introduction to the art of cooking rice was anything but smooth. It had taken some threatening and a bat to scare him into becoming a proper cook. Now, he was able to prepare stuff for both of them, and it tasted pretty good, too. There was only one problem.

Rikuo refused to eat.

The day he'd gotten the note from his boss was also the day when he started realizing just how deeply Rikuo's fear ran. The dinner table was always missing one person, and the dishes were sparse as if to accentuate his lonely meal. Normally, Rikuo's hulking presence, hunched over with newspaper in hand, irritated him. He would give anything – well, short of his virginity – to have Rikuo reading the morning news again, face set in a satisfied smirk while he ranted on about how much of a jackass he was. At least it was noisy. At least it was loud.

Not like this unnatural quiet.

Draining the cloudy water, the lime-eyed psychic shoved the stray grains back into the pot. Kazahaya frowned. Rikuo simply wasn't eating. There were so many signs of trauma; of the inner cracks within his psyche that he didn't know where to begin to start the healing process. Rikuo shied from his touch – gloved, of course to prevent transfer of memories – and had other strange behaviors. The smell of antiseptic startled him. The sound of breaking glass frightened him. Two days ago, while washing dishes, Kazahaya remembered hearing a sound coming from Rikuo's bedroom.

He'd walked in; heart ground to dust when he saw the shaking form huddled at the corner of the bed.

All that because of a broken glass.

He measured three units of water, placed the setting to 'cook,' and sighed. It had been two days since he'd cried over Rikuo's condition, and since then, the nightmares had gotten worse. With his voice back, Rikuo's screams ripped into his dreams, shocking him awake. He'd barely slept himself, having spent most of his nights pacing the room, wringing his hands. Talking to the younger man hadn't helped. Calling on Kakei-san and Saiga-san for assistance created an even bigger uproar.

There was a bruise healing on Kakei-san's cheek at the moment.

He sighed again. "What did I forget? Oh yeah, eggs." He wasn't hungry but cooking gave his hands work to do, and his mind some other preoccupation. Rikuo said disturbing things last night that he'd wished he'll forget. _Not likely,_ he thought. The boy's frantic screams broke down into sobs, and in between, his ragged voice babbled on about glass, knives, blood, and Tsukiko. None of it was coherent. None of it made much sense. But what bothered Kazahaya the most about the illogical raving was the terror in Rikuo's drawn face, the shattered expression behind those glazed eyes, and the sickly silence that lingered after the boy collapsed, exhausted. None of them dared say a word, although every one of them stared at the prone figure of the young psychic they thought they once knew. Between his illness, his slow recovery from his broken bones, his many wounds, and his nocturnal outbursts, Rikuo was proving to be quite a trial.

_Crack._ Yellow yolk slipped into a bowl, dripping with egg whites.

Not only was his body broken, but his mind as well. That was the only conclusion Kazahaya found himself at. Rikuo looked so young now, as if he'd regressed back into a child. His eyes, however, revealed his eighteen years, laden as they were with chronic distress. Dark and fogged with anguish, they looked out at him, as if begging for release. He dared not think about the ramifications of that; if it was euthanasia, he would never agree with it.

Neither would his bosses.

Picking a slender pair of chopsticks from the kitchen drawer, he began to beat the mixture inside the bowl. The slight clinking of plastic and ceramic reminded him of miniature wind chimes. It reminded him of when he used to live with Kei, ignorant of the outside world.

_Clink! Clink! Clink!_

Rikuo's voice was rough, hoarse and weary. He'd been surprised to hear it at all, considering the other's reticence since his discovery. Raising a hand, Kazahaya wiped away a tear. Furiously, he beat the eggs until the froth rose to the surface, swimming on top of a sea of bright yellow. Rikuo had spoken, and he couldn't puzzle out the jumbled mess. Something with glass splintering away like cracked light, blood so red that the image stuck in his head forever, the cruel gleam of a brandished blade, and choked words about a woman with hair like smoke, painted crimson.

The last time he'd seen Tsukiko covered with blood was during the cinema job. Was this simply a recurring image – a symbol of his partner's worst fear manifest through his breakdown? Or did it mean something more ominous than anything he could ever dream of?

That, too, was not an encouraging development.

As he poured the contents of the bowl into the heated pan, Kazahaya bit his lip. Here he was, preparing lunch for two, and his mind wouldn't clamp down on the slivers of information he'd been given. Somehow, the vision about the torn note niggled at him, refusing to remain quiet. If only he could figure out _why _Rikuo ran in the first place, and for what reason, then perhaps he could slot in the other parts of the puzzle. At the moment, the knife, glass, blood, and Tsukiko lay around him, disconnected and haphazard.

Rikuo had all of his barriers down, too.

No. Not yet. If he were to intrude into his mind in an attempt to extract information, the damage would be too great. He could seriously end up throwing both of them into an eternal coma. That was a risk that he couldn't afford, nor inflict on the one he so unwittingly cared for.

He allowed himself a rare smile. _Kakei-san, you're always right._

The smell of scrambled eggs flipped his stomach; despite his denial, he was hungry. This, of course, brought him back to the reason why he'd started cooking in the first place. He had to convince Rikuo to eat. With most of his muscle mass lost, coupled with dehydration and starvation, the taller male seemed to wither as the days passed. Whether it was a silent attempt at suicide or something more, Kazahaya couldn't stand it much longer. He wasn't going to lose Rikuo now. Not after finding him after wondering where the hell he'd vanished to. He remembered feeling down because there wasn't even a note to tell him "good-bye."

Rikuo had torn that note up, meaning it was personal.

He'll let the rice cook – no use serving up soggy rice that looked more like porridge than the first bowl of heaven he'd tasted all those winters back. Scrambled eggs, with all of its colorful fluff, looked more appetizing. Certainly, it would be easier on Rikuo's throat and better for his stomach as well. Whenever he visited Rikuo, his gut twisted, knotted as it was with apprehension. Seeing Rikuo in an inferior position was uncommon to the point of being eerie.

He should've been the one on the bed. It was the only concession to Rikuo's past remarks that he'd agreed with. He didn't like having their roles reversed.

A shining fork, gleaming like mirrors. On second thought, maybe not. Kazahaya dug through an old set of plastic cutlery, remembering in time what Rikuo sobbed out the night before. A knife that shone, all too ready to cut and maim. It wouldn't do to set off a trigger when Rikuo was high-strung, alert to any sounds or sights that recalled an intensely hellish period of his life that was now unforgettable. He winced at how that sounded in his head, and laid the benign utensil beside the eggs.

Steeling himself, Kazahaya strode forward, plate in hand, and pulled aside the curtain.

Hollow eyes, reflecting his all-too-serious face, glanced up at him and froze in place. His cheekbones were too tight – that was the problem. Rikuo had a slender face, but Kazahaya never pinpointed a time when that was bad altogether. This…this, however, was another matter.

He didn't like how sunken his cheeks were.

"I made some eggs for lunch," he explained, hoping that his voice didn't tremble. Truth be told, he was as nervous as Rikuo. "You haven't eaten for days. I was hoping that you'll share some with me."

That gaze jerkily pulled away. "No."

Rikuo's voice was so quiet that Kazahaya thought he was going deaf. "You can't continue to do this to yourself. You have to eat something, Rikuo."

Green eyes looked elsewhere. It hurt, seeing that. "I don't want any."

"Rikuo…" He let his sentence trail off, unfinished. What _could_ he say to help him? The only trace left of the old Rikuo was his stubbornness, and it wasn't enough. He felt the threatening sting of tears. Dammit. _Not now. _"Why did you say my name? Why did you ask me to stay with you that night?"

Nothing. The other psychic's breathing was the only sound in the entire room.

Kazahaya stepped towards the chair, dragging it in the direction facing the bed. At his move, bedspread and coverlet shifted in valleys and waves, inexorably pulled inward by Rikuo's shuffle towards the wall. That hurt as well. All of the trust and recognition faded in that single action, leaving him heartbroken. If told a few years ago that Rikuo Himura would be the one crushing his heart to pieces, he would've laughed. Laughter was absent, forbidden as he gazed back into those wary depths. His vision misted, flooding over with tears, and he couldn't bite back the thin sob that escaped his constricted throat. He couldn't remember when the plate disappeared from his hand – placed on the nightstand, no doubt – and both hands met his face, fingers laced to hold back the hot streaks slipping down his cheeks.

"I wanted…" A soft, deep voice that grated, unconditionally sad. "I wanted to see someone…before I died."

Startled, Kazahaya flung his head up, meeting Rikuo's shallow expression with disbelief. "_What?"_

A slight shake sent black threads into clouded viridian. "I'm dying."

He couldn't be hearing this. Not from Rikuo. Not from… "No. I don't believe you. You're safe. You're healing." He had to be, or else this whole conversation was inane. Rikuo couldn't be…. He swallowed, aware of the other boy's attention. "You're not."

"I am."

No. No. "If you're dying, it's because you're not eating. You're starving yourself right in front of me, and you dare to tell me that you're dying?" The tears drying on his face left behind the taste of salt on his lips. He licked them, uncertain where to proceed on this new footing that Rikuo suddenly presented to him. "There's nothing that bad that would force you to kill yourself, Rikuo."

Conviction. It wavered, slipping as silence pended approval from its next speaker.

A bitter chuckle. The smile never reached those dead eyes. "How would you know, Kazahaya?" His name twisted within that question, leaving him without a reply. Rikuo's voice dropped, sinking to a new low. When he next spoke, the words rasped out in a dry whisper. "Since when did you care?"

Kazahaya trembled. Rikuo did _not_ just say that.

"Why do you care about what happened," a cough interrupted that ghastly monotone, "to someone you've been calling a bastard for years?" Green eyes stared straight into him, yet didn't. It was frightening to behold. "You must've been happy when I left. Finally, you could be by yourself."

This wasn't right. "Rikuo, stop."

Another miserable cough, punctuated by the alarming addition of restrained sobs. "I remembered your face, your voice. I remembered everything about you, and it was the only thing that kept me from…" A hand cradled that contorted face, shielding it from view. Rikuo's other arm, bound in a sling, lay like dead weight against a chest that barely moved. "I have nothing left, Kazahaya."

Premonition flickered within him like shades of scarlet and night-drenched blacks. He moved quickly, afraid that if he reacted any slower, he was going to suffer a tremendous loss. That, if Rikuo was right, he would die. They'd talked about Rikuo dying from the inside where the scars writhed and reopened, bleeding; unwilling to be closed. His fingers nearly brushed against the boy's shoulder, only to skitter into the wall and open air.

"_Don't!"_ The gasping scream hauntingly lingered. Rikuo, bound arm, free hand, legs and all recoiled from his touch, scrunching into as small an area as possible. His eyes were sealed shut, swelling wet beneath the lids. "Don't touch me."

_What the hell was with that outburst?_ "Rikuo."

Silence. A closer study of his long-time roommate brought to his attention sweaty hair, the liquid sheen of skin, shuddering that set his entire body to shaking, and clenched white-knuckled fists. Oh no. This wasn't good. Under the white shirt turned translucent by sweat, Kazahaya saw tension along the bandaged chest. Rikuo was hyperventilating. He was panicking. He was living through a nightmare right here, right now.

And it was only in the afternoon, not even midnight.

Part of Kazahaya wanted to sprint downstairs at a breakneck pace, to throw open the break room door, and cry out for Kakei-san and Saiga-san. Another side of him stood and watched as Rikuo's breathing quickened, whistling out of him as his lungs sought air. Rikuo wasn't lying when he said that he was on the verge of death. Who would've thought that an innocent, well-meaning touch would be the fatal trigger of this nervous reaction?

Images from several nights ago drifted into his mind. Rikuo got angry easily whenever he got hurt during one of Kakei-san's job excursions. He'd always snapped back, wondering what fuse he'd blown this time. He'd never bothered to ask, relegating it to Rikuo's anger management issues or snippy attitude. Yet, staring in dry-mouthed terror as he watched the person who was supposed to protect him, to be the one guiding him experience a vicious bout of panic attack, the fear dissipated into a temporary cloud of red.

Kazahaya knew he had changed.

There was no going back.

_Whoever did this to you is going to pay. I can't stand seeing you like this, Rikuo._

He wasn't going to lay a hand on him. Discretion told him to move back, to give Rikuo some space. What did Rikuo mean by that statement of overwhelming loss? Something clicked in his mind; Kazahaya groaned aloud. It all had something to do with Tsukiko, didn't it? He didn't like where his mind was going with this. He hoped – he so seriously hoped that his conjecture was deadly wrong.

Because if it wasn't, it would take one hell of a year to try to haul Rikuo from his depression. Never mind that – it was going to take a lifetime.

_I have nothing left, Kazahaya._ Words leeched of hope, as bland as the voice speaking them. Whatever he'd been through, Rikuo was seeing the world as empty, barren, and a dull place to continue living. Had he forgotten that in his note, he'd struggled over two people? That if one was gone; the other could try to fill that void? Hadn't he been doing that for Rikuo since he'd first met him?

So, he did the only thing he could. Still sitting, watching as the light from outside played shadows and colors on that huddled form, he spoke. Gently, softly, as if soothing him with words instead of his hand. "Rikuo, you told me that remembering me helped you. You haven't lost everything, Rikuo." Repetition of that name flowed from his tongue, tasting of salt. "I'm still here, Rikuo. I'm still here to help you."

An arm shifted, letting light in on glossy eyes. Thankfully, the moans ceased. Kazahaya braced himself. What he'd witnessed was scary. If he could avoid seeing its like again, he'll be grateful.

"You…"

He leaned forward, unable to keep that quiet thrill back. "Yeah, Rikuo?"

"You…standing between us and them."

"Them?" Okay. He had another lead, however tiny it may be. Whoever had clobbered his friend to this crazed point wasn't just one person. It sounded more like an organization – more like some kind of shady operation. He had to report this to Kakei-san. Perhaps his boss would know where to start looking for clues; for whomever had Rikuo's life written in blood on their hands. It had been a lot of blood. Kazahaya shivered, feeling the hairs rising on his neck.

"Almost gone." Rikuo's tone was listless; a mere reciting of memory that kept him grounded. "Chains breaking…glass all around…snow. Saw you there before the end."

Goddamn. This was scary. "I was there that night when we found you," he pointed out, conscious of the tremor in his voice. "You saw us."

"No. Before that…you…holding back the pain."

Kazahaya shook his head, bewildered. Had Rikuo gone completely insane? "I wasn't there, Rikuo. We don't even know why you took off."

"You were." Insistent. Soft. Listening to Rikuo talk was going to be the death of him. They were wandering around in circles in this conversation, with no end in sight. He decided to lay the hammer down. Something inside of him churned, puzzlement and sickness rolled into one.

He needed to unwind later.

"Okay, so I was there. Rikuo, listen to me." Scraping the chair forward by a tad, he stopped as soon as he read agitation in that verdant gaze. He sighed for the third time today. "I know you're dying in there. I can see it. You can't die, though. I'm still here – I'll always be here for you. Promise me you won't think about killing yourself."

A blank stare. "I can't promise anything, Kazahaya."

"We'll start slow, then. Can you promise me that you'll eat at least?"

"I can't."

Of all the boneheaded…. Kazahaya cut that thought short. It wasn't Rikuo's fault. "I'll need to tell my bosses about your condition, Rikuo. I think you might need another change of wrappings, too."

Black dilated into emerald, shockingly fast. "Don't touch me."

There it was again – fear of contact so severe that it baffled him. Understanding this hypervigilant and edgy Rikuo was like trying to figure out the Rubix cube. He still didn't get how that worked, and Rikuo was flesh and blood, not a toy. The beginnings of a headache throbbed near his eye. How great, he mused sourly. Kakei-san would not only hear about the criminal organization, but also a request for another extended holiday.

They were going to need it.

"I cooked some eggs earlier, and it's right there," he indicated with a finger. It was probably cool by now, having sat on the nightstand while he pondered and dug through the mess of the discussion he'd somehow mangled during its delivery. No wonder Rikuo used to call him "stupid." The yellow clumps didn't look appealing, but still…it was edible. "I'll just leave it right there. If you're hungry, just help yourself. I'll be right back."

Rikuo's vapid stare followed him on the way out.

* * *

Explaining to Kakei-san about what he'd learned furrowed an elegant brow. The fact that Rikuo spoke to him at all was another mystery, especially when the delusional aspect of his presence was brought forward. His brown-haired manager chewed his lip at that, glancing towards Saiga-san who lingered quietly nearby. A subtle shake of another dark-haired head that reminded him too much of another, and both bespectacled men looked away. 

In the end, the extra holiday was granted.

Kazahaya looked down at the syringes, bottles, and the bag of supplies he'd been given. Apparently, if Rikuo trusted him enough to talk, perhaps he'll also acquiesce to an injection. He didn't think so. If the emotional outburst was any indication, Rikuo was far from reacquainting himself with simple actions like a light pat on the back. He could only imagine what the glimmer of sharp steel would do.

Someone had severely devastated Rikuo to the point of no return.

He intended on bringing him back.

The door opened with a slight click, sliding shut with as little noise as he could manage. Dumping the bag on the dinner table, he grimaced as he looked at the rice cooker. Steam greeted him as the lid sprang open, showing a beautiful circle of white. He wasn't hungry, yet. Had it really been three hours since he'd checked on it?

A fourth sigh. Kazahaya rolled his eyes. He'll be winning the Tokyo lottery if he tallied the number of times he'd immersed himself into a regular cycle of gloominess. Oh hell, he'll be rich, then.

Like money would do any good to heal Rikuo's inner scars.

A cursory glance around said occupant's room ground his steps to a halt. Nothing looked out of the norm – plastic alarm clock with its bold red display, the lamp that bowed its head to await nightfall, the curled length of white shirt, black hair, and bandages. _Wait._ There was something that caught his eye. Padding lightly forward, the older boy stared straight at the plate on the nightstand.

A section of the eggs was gone. It was very little – almost miniscule – but it was gone.

Lying next to it was the fork, snapped cleanly in two.


	6. Clouded Miasma

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Note: An update, finally. The plot started tugging, and so did the angst, and so I returned to it. I'm glad I did, because I'm eager to move the story on forward._

**CHAPTER 6**

"He ate. He also broke the fork," Kazahaya said flatly. Lounging against the break room door, unaware of his feline grace, he gazed at Kakei and his partner in the hopes of reading their expression. Unfortunately, both of them schooled their features to impassivity, and what could be seen from behind Kakei's glasses was nothing more than exhaustion. He doubted Saiga-san even with all his sleeping wasn't feeling the same. "He broke the fork like this," snapping his fingers to demonstrate how cleanly the break was, "and he didn't sleep well last night, either."

"Did you tranquilize him?"

Staring at Kakei, Kazahaya wondered if his boss sensed his unwillingness to inflict more trauma on Rikuo. "No, I didn't." Wincing at how that sounded, he held his gaze and wished his voice wouldn't shake. "I – I can't do that to him. Not in the shape he's in."

"Himura broke the fork."

Kazahaya blinked as Saiga turned worriedly to his long-time partner. "Kakei, does that bother you? It bothers me. Nearly killed, but he still has enough power to break something. Did he do that to tell us something?"

The beautiful manager of Green Drugstore lowered his head into his entwined hands, covering briefly the shine of his glasses. The door felt hard and cold against Kazahaya's back as he braced himself for another knife in the ribs. There was an undercurrent here that he wasn't catching, and it churned his stomach just trying to grasp the significance of what Saiga-san said. For whatever reason, it didn't feel very optimistic. "I believe so, Saiga. It doesn't bode well."

"_What?"_ he interrupted, disturbed. "If he's leaving me a message, what's Rikuo trying to tell me?"

Two bespectacled faces met his grimly. "Rikuo's telling us he's too broken to fix, Kudou-kun." Kakei-san always had a way about him, especially when it came to delivering bad news. There was gentleness wrapped around that bitter core of truth that Kazahaya immediately denied. It must've shown on his face, for the boss's next words were firmer, even as his voice went softer. "He's angry. He's afraid. Did he say anything else to you last night that might shed light on this?"

"He told me he's dying. But, he can't be! He's – he's back with us! He's safe!"

"Rikuo doesn't think _he's_ safe, Kudou-kun. That's a big problem for us right there. He hasn't allowed anyone to touch him; yet, he's spoken to you. He has nightmares and flashbacks that disrupt his sleep…"

"And mine," Kazahaya mumbled, ashamed that such a triviality crossed his mind. Even as he thought that, he noticed Saiga reaching around to massage the younger-looking man's shoulders. Kakei-san appeared frailer, perhaps because of Rikuo's condition. With all of the commotion surrounding Rikuo, there were headaches aplenty and many more to spare. Lack of sleep was one of them, and trying to deal with those heart-wrenching screams that caused him to get his own nightmares was another.

He sighed, and met Saiga's still gaze.

"Boy, if he's dying inside, he'll eventually die. Whoever it was did a thorough job. They broke the boy who did the breaking for us, and if he destroys anything now, it's not for a side task that the boss assigned."

"We just have to help him rebuild his life." A strand of thick brown hair trailed over the lenses of Kakei's glasses, hiding the weary expression mirrored in sienna. "But if he's not ready, we can't push. Rikuo _is_ at the brink; if we shove too hard, we'll lose him. He _will _die, then, Kudou-kun. We need to give him more time."

"How much more time does he need?"

"As much as he wants." It was a command; Kazahaya could hear the authoritative steel in his boss's usually mild-mannered tone. "It'll be another four to six weeks before the sling and wrappings come off, and by then, he should be well on his way to recovery. The physical scars we can deal with, but the psychological…" Once again, a slender hand covered that elegant profile. "I'm not sure what we can do about his emotional scars, Kudou-kun. Perhaps you're the only one who can."

"_Me?"_ By the gods – he hated how his voice squeaked. For someone already eighteen, it was embarrassing. If Rikuo had never disappeared that night, never strode out of his life in search for something elusive, perhaps he would be the one mouthing off a sarcastic remark. It would be highly welcome, despite his vitriolic response to the usual. As it was, he nearly fell sideways off the door from the shock of Kakei-san's suggestion.

Idiot, he thought, and knew it to be true.

"You know him better than all of us in this room, with exception of a few secrets that we won't disclose to you, yet. He's terrified, yes, but he did respond to you. He told you a bit of his ordeal and he ate the food you gave him. Rikuo doesn't react the same way to us, do you understand? Rikuo sees Saiga and I as the enemy, which does give us a clue. The ones who did this to him were around our age, if not build and height. They probably were also astonishingly powerful – enough to handicap a boy whose ability should've protected him."

"And Tsukiko? What about her?"

"She's involved in it somehow. When it's time, you must use your ability to piece together Rikuo's experiences. You're the only one who can, given that he trusts you implicitly by the end."

"If he doesn't?"

"If he doesn't, we'll lose him. It's as simple as that."

"No." He felt himself trembling, arms clinging to his chest in a desperate attempt to avoid falling apart. Kazahaya sniffed, wanting to cry but he couldn't for his own damn pride and the fact that he couldn't go to pieces while Rikuo needed him. If Rikuo accepted his help, that is. At the moment, he didn't know which direction his partner struggled towards; whether it was a clamor for aid that sounded like a scream from hell, or a stubborn tug spiraling downwards into despair and death. "We can't lose him, Kakei-san. We can't."

"I know."

"We won't allow him to slip through our fingers, boy." Saiga said; his voice resolute and determined. Kazahaya often wished he could see the man's eyes, but that tone gave him enough emotion behind those shades. Saiga-san was equally concerned, if not emboldened to show that their eccentric family would survive this catastrophe. They would pull through; even if all of them sacrificed everything they had so that Rikuo would recover. More and more each day, Saiga-san was showing what he was capable of, and no longer was Kazahaya intimidated by the man's occasional teasing grope. It was nothing compared to this kind of support. Recently, though, even that had stopped. He wondered why.

"How are you dealing with his other concerns?"

"Other concerns?"

"Does he stay in bed all day, or does he get up to do his business? Himura's not developing bedsores, is he? His bandages need changing, right?"

Kazahaya slumped against the door, relieved that the cold metal backing supported his sagging weight. Worn, he glanced briefly at Kakei, recognizing the kindred look of bone-deep fatigue that leeched strength from them. Saiga, however, was as solid and supporting as a boulder – an apt description for his mental fortitude and his hulking presence – and the questions were still unanswered.

A few issues down. Several more to go.

"He does," he replied, fighting off the deep flush that burned his cheeks upon thinking about Rikuo "doing his business." Dammit. "He needs a shower and a change of bandages. I'll need some help."

"Do you need my help, boy?" Strange how Saiga changed a potentially brusque reply into something that wasn't unkind. Then again, the man could cook and sew; this wasn't the first time Saiga-san surprised him so. The shades turned from him towards Kakei, who appeared to be feeling much better, headache or not. "What do you think, Kakei?"

"Rikuo does need to be cleaned up, and Kudou-kun can't move him. You can, but are you willing to go through all that again?"

"I'm not the one who ended up with a bruise."

"Point made."

Kazahaya fidgeted. If he let them continue talking like this, the situation could get lovey-dovey; he didn't need that right now. A smile crossed his face when Saiga stood, patting Kakei on the shoulder, and the smaller man curled up on the couch to sleep. Kakei-san did need to rest, he thought. It wouldn't do them any good if the boss fainted. The effect of that would tax Saiga-san's nerves greatly. He was sure of it.

The big hulk of black swiftly broadsided him. "The boss is tired. Aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Is Himura?"

He felt his smile droop along with his shoulders. "He is, when he's finally able to sleep."

Saiga nodded next to him, keeping in stride. "He's asleep now?"

"I think so. Rikuo's also taken to looking at the walls when he's awake."

"Hate to give the boy more nightmares, but this has to be done. Just follow my lead like before, get it? If I tell you to go, go. Fill a syringe for me, and put it in a place where I can easily use it. He'll get wild – I'll guarantee that."

"Don't need to remind me," Kazahaya said, looking upwards as they rounded the corner. His footfall on the metal stairs barely registered, unlike the older man's heavy-footed rhythm as they ascended to the final floor.

Between them and the door was someone they cared for, lost in blood and terror.

Beside him, Saiga-san drew in his breath. "Come on."

* * *

Rikuo had bolted the very instant they crossed the threshold into his room. The curtains had opened to reveal the starkly pale face with wild green eyes staring back at them. Kazahaya's hand trembled as he jammed the syringe into the open bottle of tranquilizer, remembering the way how Rikuo's expression changed. The recognition that brightened those eyes when he stepped in suddenly shifted to wide-eyed horror when Saiga-san walked in like a figure out of a nightmare that he couldn't fully understand. 

Rikuo was fast. Before he could even blink, his partner had scrambled backwards, towards the bed. Saiga-san was swift in following, Kazahaya recalled, sick to his stomach. Focusing on the task at hand, he filled the syringe with the drug, tapped it against the bottle, and placed it down on the bedside table. Wailing echoed from the bathroom in an echoless room. It rung in his ears, and he wanted to clap his hands over them to cover the terrible sound that forced tears into his eyes. Helpless, he wandered over to the source of it, and knocked on the bathroom door.

"_NO! NO! Don't touch me!"_

"You need to wash yourself, boy. The other can barely help you in this, and you hurt the boss by thrashing around. I'm not going to hurt you."

"_Don't hurt me again! Please, don't!"_

Tears fell unbidden down Kazahaya's cheeks, as bitter as the anguish he heard. Rikuo, begging? Was this what he sounded like during those few weeks when he went missing? The voice on the other side, strained and hoarse as it was, was still undeniably Rikuo. He had never heard Rikuo scream like this before. It shook him to think of Rikuo even begging for mercy while his tormentors damaged him. He'd seen that pinched look on his face whenever he'd mentioned family to him, and there was that one time when that cat unraveled. Rikuo had shouted Tsukiko's name back, then.

That was shouting of a different sort, though. Nothing like this. Nothing could compare to this cry that either Kakei-san, Saiga-san, or he could comprehend. It hurt to hear it. Wincing, he tapped on the door again, hoping for a response.

"Boy, don't come in here. You don't need to see this."

See what? What was Saiga-san hiding from him?

"_No! No! I'll…please, don't…"_

A harsh intake of breath on the other side stopped Kazahaya cold. "Whatever did they do to you, boy?" Silence; followed by a sobbing breath. "Do you need help turning the shower on?" He felt like an eavesdropper, and it was unnaturally quiet. Placing his hand on the doorknob, steeling himself, Kazahaya walked in.

Several things happened instantaneously. Saiga-san whirling around, his mien stern; Rikuo shrinking against the tub; his shock at seeing the bruises anew, the gashes and scars twisting dark and scabbed on skin; the sudden crackle and explosion of glass; Saiga-san covering him so that the glass pelted off of them; and the realization that he still didn't know what shocked Saiga-san.

Behind them, Rikuo moaned. "No…no…I didn't…"

The mirror was gone. On the floor numerous shards sparkled, sharp and deadly. Not ungently, Saiga-san released him, dusting off the tiny sparkles in his hair. "Are you okay, boy?" Stunned, Kazahaya nodded. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

"I – I couldn't take it anymore. I'm sorry."

"He broke the fork. He broke the mirror. He's out of control."

"…didn't mean to…didn't want to hurt him…"

"I'll be right back, boy. Need to clean up this glass, or he's going to cut himself up." As soon as Saiga left the room, Kazahaya carefully tip-toed around the floor until he knelt beside Rikuo. Fighting off the urge to hold onto the boy's hands, he leaned against the bathtub and looked carefully at him.

Rikuo was a wreck. Kazahaya twitched, wanting to brush aside the greasy locks of dark hair that shadowed that tortured face. He couldn't see much of it, since Rikuo wasn't looking at him. Hadn't glanced in his direction since the mirror broke, actually. Kazahaya swallowed. Did he blame himself for that? Was he still trying to protect him? Head spinning, he grabbed the side of the tub for support. Just as he did, he noticed anew the healing web of scars on Rikuo's back, twisted and brown, and ugly. They would remain there for the rest of Rikuo's life, he knew, and that knowledge knifed him in the heart. What would his partner see reflected in mirrors – someone who survived a terrible and deliberate act of cruelty, or a loser who made the worst mistake and undid his life in one evening? He didn't know the answer, couldn't give it to him, and that frightened him the most.

Once drawn to the pattern of scars, he kept looking. His stomach doubled as he recognized the arm that held Rikuo's tattoo. The tattoo was missing; no, not missing. _Skinned._ Someone had skinned it off, leaving in its place a mockery of scar tissue. There were evident signs of chafing and burn marks on his wrists, encircling them with a precision that scared him. Rikuo sat huddled listlessly beside him, fallen silent. Glass glittered from the tile floor, as if whispering secrets into the echoless room. Shuddering, Kazahaya let his gaze continue even as he fought not to weep.

Contusions purple and red, seething with blood, trailed down Rikuo's hips. Laceration marks, similar to the ones on his back swathed his legs, and his ankles ringed by scars appeared slightly swollen. A long irregular gash that he couldn't figure out wound its way up the inside of Rikuo's thigh, ragged and slightly faded. Kazahaya closed his eyes. He'd only seen how badly Rikuo was injured from the waist-up before; only now, did he fully understand how much abuse he'd taken. Little wonder Saiga-san tried to prevent him from noticing.

He needed to know, though. He just had to.

"Rikuo?"

Trembling next to him, small but significant. A shaky breath that wasn't the voice he longed to hear. He yearned to see those eyes, but Rikuo wasn't showing them to him. There was fear and guilt mixed here – a heavy burden for someone already viciously crushed. Rikuo's splinted fingers shook among the broken glass, skidding haphazardly, and opening flesh. Blood wetly smeared the tiles, grinding the color red deeply into Kazahaya's head.

"Rikuo?"

Outside, Kazahaya thought he heard some movement. It didn't matter.

"Rikuo?"

An inward pull of limbs, and the boy that used to goad him still didn't turn his head. "Rikuo, it wasn't your fault. You – you didn't mean to break the glass, and –"

"I could've killed you."

"You didn't. Don't you understand that?"

"I – I broke the fork. I didn't – I didn't mean to." Blood dripped from Rikuo's torn fingers, dabbling white with crimson. "I – I can't…I can't control…useless –"

"Don't say that!"

"No. No. Just –" A flurry of scars and skin, limbs and flying hair, and Rikuo was on the other side of the room. It seemed a yawning gap between them, and the rejection stung. Kazahaya stared, alarmed at the streak of blood that marked Rikuo's hasty retreat. "I don't want to hurt you. Please – leave me alone."

"You didn't –"

"Please," the other boy said, finally meeting his desperate gaze. The emerald depths were torn, wretched and sick. Sick at heart, Kazahaya realized. He felt the same way, looking at how forlorn Rikuo appeared, scarred and freshly bloodied. The eyes that looked back at him were lifeless. _Boy, if he's dying inside, he'll eventually die._ Swallowing his tears, Kazahaya braced himself against the wall. His knees were weak. He felt lightheaded.

"Rikuo –"

"Don't, Kazahaya. I – I can't."

"Rikuo, I –" The room whirled, pitching him forward.

A rustle of cloth, a crunch of glass, and Saiga-san stood beside him, holding him up. "Hey, don't faint on us like that. You didn't touch him, did you?"

His head swam; light shimmered around him. "No."

"I didn't like how the conversation was going, so I decided to step in. That's what Kakei will want, you know. The broom and dustpan are outside. Looks like I'll have to take care of it later."

"Why? Why didn't you leave me to die?"

Shocked, Kazahaya jolted awake, staring bewildered at Rikuo. Next to him, Saiga moved forward a step, and then stopped. This wasn't the question he wanted to hear Rikuo ask. He'd known the younger psychic was suicidal, but to ask them "why"? Rikuo gazed at them – _at him_ – and smiled bitterly.

"We don't just leave people to die, boy."

"I've lost everything. There – there is no loss."

He wanted to scream. "Rikuo – look at me. You told me – you told me that somehow I was there for you. You want to throw all that away because you want to die? _Why?"_

"Because you can't do anything to help me!"

_Rikuo's telling us he's too broken to fix, Kudou-kun._ He was crying again for the second time in a row. Since the night they found Rikuo, his tears seemed endless. Was Rikuo even capable of coming back? Was that smirking, sarcastic, perverted sense-of-humor jackass lost forever? Or did his assailants kill that off before they proceeded to destroy his body piece by piece while listening to his screams? Or did they save that for last, mutilating it beyond recognition and leaving it as scraps in a sea of blood?

Rikuo _was_ there. The fierce sense of protection; the stubbornness that used to drive him insane was still intact. But the rest? It was gone or lost – a jarring sense of something missing and that lack stared back at him through a pair of hollow eyes. Saiga-san hadn't budged from his side since the question was thrust forth; perhaps the shock of it left him immobile, too. This new Rikuo, eerily passive, quiet, and unassuming could've been him. It was possible.

Anything was possible when it involved him.

What exactly did those bastards _do_ to Rikuo?

"Boy, go lie down and rest. You're in no shape to handle this."

"But, Saiga-san –"

"No 'buts', boy. Go and sleep. I think you need it as much as Kakei." He felt a firm grip guide him out of the bathroom, steering him away from pinpricks of glass. A swath of fabric parted before him, blurry through his tears. "I'll give you this just to make sure," the deep voice said behind him, and the answering sting of the needle in his arm induced a sudden drowsiness that he'd never experienced before. Gently, he felt himself tucked in, with sheets pulled up to his chin; and before his world vanished in a deep mire of black, one thing resounded in his mind.

_Because you can't do anything to help me!_

It was his personal nightmare.


	7. Lucid Yellow

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Note: Edited Kakei's minor dialogue dealing with White Day, which takes place on March 14th and not in February along with Valentine's Day. Also used the business jargon of "stockout", which means running out of inventory for a particular item. (7/27/07)_

**CHAPTER 7**

"Er, Kakei-san? Is this what you want me to stock?" Looking down at the multiple boxes of KY jelly and condoms, Kazahaya flushed. It was damn hot in Green Drugstore for this time of the day, and the heat wasn't even turned on. Dammit. Goddamn it. He was as red as his shirt, and the last thing he needed to hear was a smart-aleck quip about how hot he was under the collar. "Little Miss Virgin" indeed! Grabbing a handful of wrapped condoms – he didn't need to know what flavors they were, or if they were ribbed or not – he started shoving them into the glass jars. He'll deal with the tubes of what Kakei-san called "lubricant" later.

Of course, "Little Miss Virgin" was Rikuo's nickname for him, considering his reaction to receiving his first condom. Shaking his head, Kazahaya finished stocking the chocolate-labeled packages and plunged into the vanilla-flavored ones. He needed to stop thinking about Rikuo, because Rikuo was the reason why he was down here. He'd cut his extended holiday short, without explanation, and asked Kakei-san if there was inventory to be done.

As it turned out, there was. There was so much paperwork to check, supplies to be stocked and thrown out, and customers to take that Kazahaya found himself swamped by work for the next few days. Try as he might, he could not stay upstairs with his tormented roommate. Ever since the day Saiga-san and he experienced that horrible exchange of words with Rikuo, their relationship with the other psychic hit a dead end.

Rikuo wasn't talking to him. He wasn't talking at all.

It was, Kazahaya slowly understood, a form of silent suicide. The breakfast plates were scraped into the trash, uneaten. Whenever he ate, the older psychic found himself alone, staring miserably up at the ceiling and at the drying grease on his plate. Rikuo hadn't eaten for a week, and already, Kazahaya could see the translucency of his skin. According to Saiga-san, he should at least be grateful that Rikuo wasn't the type to shoot, stab, or hang himself. Those were immediate forms of suicide; this one dragged, giving them time.

Unfortunately, he was running out of it.

"Damn it," he cursed, swiping at a tube of KY jelly, only to toss it back into the box as if it burned him. "Rikuo, why?" After enduring days of the silent treatment, he'd had enough and left Rikuo. The first night he returned from work, he'd gone directly to his room and went to bed. It was also the evening he threw a pillow over his head to tune out the whimpers and cries of anguish. He hadn't been able to look Rikuo in the face since then.

"How's the re-stocking, Kudou-kun?"

At least his face wasn't burning hot. "It's…um…" He coughed, hoping that Kakei-san would misinterpret it for a seasonal allergy. The wicked amusement on the boss's face short-circuited his brain, churning up the dregs of what Rikuo would deem his lameness. "It's…interesting." Big fat chance of that happening. "With all the girls coming in here, what do we need these for?"

"They have lovers to please, of course. I thought you knew that, Kudou-kun."

Now, he was red. "_Kakei-san!"_

"All joking aside, how's Rikuo? You didn't tell me the exact reason why you came back to work. You should be with him; he needs your company."

"Tell that to him. He doesn't want me there."

"Why? Is it because of what happened a week ago? When you and Saiga took it upon yourselves to get him cleaned up?" Kakei's countenance darkened. "Saiga told me that shortly after he put you to bed, he returned to Rikuo. Rikuo became timid; nearly submissive in how he listened to Saiga. It was as if he'd lost a fight, and he didn't care what would become of him. It gave Saiga a headache afterwards, contemplating that."

"He listened to Saiga-san?"

"It's not in a good way, Kudou-kun." The other man sighed; Kazahaya shifted his weight, adjusted his stance, and prepared himself for the worst. "I don't know exactly what was done to him, but Rikuo basically gave up. It's a common way of survival for victims of abuse, especially in cases like Rikuo's, and it leaves them open to more violence. He knew he wasn't going to budge Saiga, so he allowed himself to be led in whatever direction Saiga wanted out of him. I'm aware that he broke the mirror in the bathroom."

"Kakei-san, he blames himself for that."

"Why would he? It's not his fault he snapped like that."

"The glass broke when I came in. I would've been hit if Saiga-san wasn't there. Rikuo thinks he nearly killed me. He wouldn't look at me, Kakei-san. He wouldn't, and now he's lying up there, wanting to die and I've done nothing to stop him."

"Is that why you came back to work? Has he eaten anything?"

Closing his eyes, Kazahaya recalled the wasted food. "Not for a week - no."

"Kudou-kun, has he spoken to you at all after that incident with you and Saiga?"

"No. He hasn't. I haven't seen him in days. I – I refused to."

"_Why?"_ Suddenly, Kakei's demeanor chilled. Shuddering, Kazahaya stepped back, sensing the deadly coldness emanating from the man. One didn't need to be psychic to read Kakei's mood swings. "Why haven't you been handling the responsibility that's rightfully yours? Why didn't you see him?"

"Because he hurt me!"

A sharp sigh of frustration splintered the air. "Kudou-kun, listen to me very carefully. Have you considered why he's not speaking to you? Have you even stopped to think about why he's behaving this way? How do you think he felt when he was forcibly hauled and stripped? This isn't like being awoken from a nightmare. It was necessary, yes, but those actions during those missing weeks could have been precursors to something far worse."

"Is he holding _me_ to blame for that?"

"The question is: 'Is he holding himself to blame for the mirror, as well as your concern when he doesn't feel like he deserves it?' This isn't a blame game, Kudou-kun. He's been badly hurt, and he's closed himself off. It's not betrayal, but it's not a place where he has any control. He's lost control of his telekinesis, and he nearly injured you in the process. He doesn't trust himself anymore. He's broken; he doesn't want to inflict pain on you – now do you see why he's suicidal?"

"Then why did he ask me to stay with him that night when he awoke? Why did he talk to me at all?" Beside him, the cases of condoms and KY jelly sat forgotten. Kazahaya clenched his fists, struggling hard to keep them at his side. "Why did he reach out when all he's doing now is running away?"

"Is that fair?"

"_What?_ He's running away – he's not allowing us to help him!"

Across from him, Kakei folded his arms and glared. "And what exactly have you been doing this whole time, Kudou-kun?"

Kazahaya blinked, stunned silent. Did Kakei-san aim a barb straight at his own situation? Did it have something to do with his flight from home, away from Kei? If so…. Inwardly, he winced. Kakei-san knew more about him than he let on, but this particular comment stung. He heard himself yelling about Rikuo's cowardice, replaying the angry words. Running away, and this entire time, he kept his distance from Kei, from the sheltered existence he once lived. He couldn't hold onto his anger, not after Kakei-san exposed that hypocrisy. Not after…shit.

"Exactly."

"What would you do, then?" Not a challenge. A plea of help, more like. Crap, he _was_ like Rikuo without realizing it.

"First, finish your job. You still have some inventory to stock; after that, you have the day off. You already know what you should do, Kudou-kun. You're just afraid to carry it out, and he's afraid to accept what you're offering him. You have to get past your problems first, or you _can't_ help him. I've given you your answers – it's up to you to apply them."

"Oh."

"I see you're in the box of vanilla condoms. Not quite my taste, but it's suitable for beginners." Kakei-san stepped away from him, picked up the clipboard listing inventory and all the official paperwork dealing with the week's purchases, and smiled. "Looks like I'll have to call in another shipment of strawberry-flavored condoms. Another month and it'll be Valentine's Day and White Day will be upon us before we know it. It won't do for us to run into a stockout, after all."

It was appropriate, he decided, to discreetly cough.

Not that anything was discreet when Kakei-san stood right beside him.

"Get back to work, Kudou-kun. I'm sure you want that break, right?"

* * *

Kazahaya pulled the apron off, watching as the green strings whirled from behind. The air was keen and crisp outside, warmed by the sun and chill from the wind. Inhaling, he walked out of the drugstore, folding his work clothes as he did so. Every once in a while, he would stand on the pavement and observe the traffic of people, of bikes, and of cars. Today was such a day, Kazahaya marked. Instead of leaning against the store wall this time, he turned the corner and sat on the stairs. 

A man dressed in a business suit strode across the street, briefcase over his shoulder. Two little girls ran ahead, giggling while their mothers gossiped in the background. A dog barked and a cat hissed in reply. Papers rustled as the wind blew through, ruffling his shirt and creating a wave of discarded pamphlets that rushed into oncoming traffic. Before, he'd taken a pamphlet and scanned through it. It was nothing more than religious fodder from one of the sects hiding in downtown Tokyo. He wasn't aware of how vast the world was until Rikuo pointed out to him that these sects populated Japan. Only then was he attuned to his ignorance and his social standing compared to the taller boy's street smarts.

He sighed.

His words were cruel. Thankfully, Rikuo wasn't around to hear them. _What? He's running away – he's not allowing us to help him!_ He was the coward, not Rikuo. Rikuo couldn't do anything, but what about him? What about Kazahaya Kudou – the one who always wanted to fly free? The one who escaped harm time and time again because Rikuo was always there for him? The one who could understand; could still think without a cloud of pain hazing his memories? Kazahaya locked his fingers together, catching sight of a blue balloon trailing from a child's hand.

Instead, when Rikuo closed himself off, so did he.

Was this his way of telling Rikuo he cared for him?

If it was, it was an extremely selfish way to do it. Balling his apron in his hands, Kazahaya gazed at the sun as it crawled down toward the horizon. Grey clouds scattered across the sky, fringes aflame with gold, pink, and orange. It'd been some time since he'd seen a truly red sun, Kazahaya thought. With winter weather still whistling through Tokyo, the skies were darker earlier and the winds cut into one like a knife. Shivering, he stood and trudged up the stairs that led him back home.

The first thing he did upon stepping into the quiet apartment was to throw his apron and shoes in the corner. Kakei-san had him stock six boxes of inventory – most of which were highly embarrassing – and sweep the floor before calling it a night. Yet, the timing was flawless, so that he was out earlier than usual. It was uncanny how precise Kakei-san's calculations were; although, six boxes of supplies were a bit much. Rubbing his eyelid, he questioned if the overload of work was an indirect form of punishment. What he'd said about Rikuo really wasn't nice.

_Rikuo. _

Kazahaya stiffened. It was too still. Was Rikuo asleep? He couldn't possibly have walked out of here by himself. Kakei-san and Saiga-san would've known, and in his condition, Rikuo wouldn't get far.

"Rikuo?"

Apprehension twisted his stomach. "Rikuo, are you okay?" Never mind the fact that Rikuo wasn't on speaking terms with him, but the guy wouldn't go belly-up on him, would he? A week without food wasn't a death sentence, as far as Kazahaya knew. A month or two, maybe, but not a week. The last time he laid eyes on him, Rikuo was pale and thin, and nowhere near dead. Could someone die of heartbreak? Of emotional neglect?

"Rik–" He started to call again, only to stop and stare.

Water gleamed on the floor; drops shimmering dully. White strips of cloth, damp and curled, wound its way towards one of the green-curtained rooms. A wedge of yellow coming from the bathroom dissected the hall into dark and light. Kazahaya stepped closer, tentatively. The smell of soap lingered in the air, scenting the place with green pine. Rikuo had taken a shower – had gotten out of bed. Then why did he protest when Saiga-san tried to do the same? Why didn't he do it sooner and spare them the hassle?

"Rikuo?"

He lifted aside the curtain.

His scream shattered the air, as readily as glass. "_Rikuo!"_ He slipped, he skidded, and he nearly fell on his face but Kazahaya scrambled next to the ashen form slumped across the bed. "Rikuo – speak to me! You can't be…" Rikuo lay unresponsive; his face frozen in a grimace of pain. Kazahaya wept, pulling the younger man closer to him. "Please, Rikuo – don't leave me!" The heart beneath his beat, but there was no movement from the body he held. There was blood on the sheets, and blood on the floor. Wiping aside his tears, he finally noticed the scrap of yellow clutched loosely in Rikuo's hand.

It was their washcloth.

It was also wet with blood. So were the bandages that hung loosely from Rikuo's body. Lying next to him, nearly hidden was a pair of scissors. Kazahaya flung them away, biting back his tears. "Rikuo, can you hear me?" Silence; except for the shallow breathing that strained to continue near his ear. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I walked out on you. I'm sorry I ignored you. I – I never wanted you to feel this way. I don't know what they did to you, and it frightens me. Please, Rikuo – don't die."

His voice cracked. "You've only just come back. It wouldn't be fair…"

_To me, to you, to us._ "Rikuo, please."

Nothing. His world broke around him, and its center was Rikuo.

Rikuo…Rikuo Himura…

* * *

"_Is this the fool that tried taking on our best men?" A derisive laugh, followed by the sound of spit hitting the floor with a wet plop. "Rikuo Himura. Just a punk trying to show off, or a real idiot?"_

_The room was unbearably cold; nearly frozen. He tried moving his wrists and ankles, and found them bound by thick metal chains. Stomach churning, he remembered how a piece of flying wood threw him across the exterior hall when he'd entered. He'd blacked out, unable to hear the approach of his assailants. His head had cracked into the wall, and the pain still throbbed through his skull. His arms were numb, stretched as they were towards the ceiling. Everything here was cold and sterile._

_He shuddered, unable to keep the fear down. He shouldn't be here, not like this._

"_Looks like your idiot is awake, Iwakare. How about showing him what we do to upstarts? Maybe he'll learn a lesson from that."_

_He blinked, trying to clear his fuzzy vision. A man stepped before him, dressed darkly, and nodded his head off to the side. Something shattered, splintered into a hundred sounds, and whistled towards him. Looking up, not able to perceive the depth of it, he pulled all of his strength out, and tugged. The whistling struck him; he screamed, unable to hold back the agony that burst across his senses, and faintly heard another scream echo._

"_Iwakare! Iwakare? Shit, man – he's dead."_

_His back burned. His shirt peeled from where the sharp bits of whatever hit him sliced it open. Pain dimmed his sight, filling it with bright spots of red. There was a dead man on the floor in front of him, blood pooling from beneath the iron beam he'd broken. He wanted to vomit._

"_We'll take care of Iwakare later. Looks like the boss was right – this boy is dangerous. Well, gentlemen, are we just going to leave without taking vengeance for our fallen brother?"_

_Shattering upon shattering._

_He screamed as his blood splattered, painting a circle of red around him._

* * *

It was the light pressure on his hand that awoke him. Kazahaya stared down, disbelieving. Rikuo's fingers were settled against his, soft and gentle. They were cold, but so was he. He'd never noticed just how much bigger Rikuo's hands were before. Rubbing his eyes, the older boy prepared to move out from under his charge, and stopped. It suddenly came to him why he was here, with the taller boy asleep on his lap and the scissors in the corner. 

Kazahaya froze. _Asleep?_ He'd thought Rikuo was dying. He'd seen the blood, the scissors, and the washcloth. The blood was still on Rikuo, but it wasn't as severe as it first seemed. There were no stab wounds, just abrasions on bare patches of skin. He could easily wipe the blood off.

He jerked, shakily.

Blood. Rikuo surrounded by a ring of blood. His own. A dead man lying on the cold floor with his head bashed in by an iron beam. Red gushing out from beneath the broken weight. Glass breaking, controlled by someone who wanted to hear Rikuo scream. Rikuo screaming; fear and pain overwhelming his mind. Rikuo doing something he shouldn't have done. A punishment in the beginning. Only the beginning.

Kazahaya trembled. Now he knew why breaking glass scared Rikuo. He also knew, against all odds, that he'd trespassed into Rikuo's mind and that by doing so, he'd disobeyed Kakei-san's rule. _I didn't mean to,_ he argued within himself. Rikuo had frightened him, passing out like that. It was natural for someone to cradle the one they cared for, and he couldn't sit there wringing his hands. Did Kakei-san have knowledge that this was going to occur; thereby, the eerie timing? If so, why wasn't he stopped? Saiga-san could've stormed in and pulled him away before his empathic ability kicked in. He could've damaged himself and Rikuo – the memory was dreadful enough for that.

Getting nightmares was easy with those types of memories. But Rikuo slept on his lap, for once quiet. Kazahaya blinked, and then gently smoothed the damp hair back from the boy's peaceful face. It was like someone had tenderly washed away the agony. Rikuo stirred under his touch, murmuring, and slept on. Had his ability evolved? Did he absorb some of Rikuo's fear and torment? Did he take away his nightmares, at least for one night? He wasn't sure he'd like to approach Kakei-san with this hypothesis, because that would bring the storm down on his head.

Then again…. Rikuo's fingers; Rikuo's touch, soft in his palm.

It was the first time Rikuo ever touched him since that horrible Christmas evening.

"Rikuo," he whispered. "Welcome back."

For this, anything was worth it.


	8. Cataclysmic Crimson

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Note: Non-consensual sex mentioned; tread carefully. Thanks._

**CHAPTER 8**

He had no idea when he'd gone back to sleep; yet, during the long vigil, the fairer boy drowsed off. It was difficult not to, when the apartment was quiet and the soft breathing of the younger man on his lap put him at rest. That explained why he awoke, at first confused and bleary-eyed, to find that he'd come shy of resting his head against Rikuo's dark one. It also explained a lot about the uncomfortable silence now that Rikuo was awake.

Awake, and staring at him with the wariest expression he'd seen since Rikuo came back into his life. He sat by the bed, while his sable-haired companion pressed himself against the nightstand. _At least_, Kazahaya thought, assured, _he didn't start screaming. _Rikuo's withdrawal had been slower this time, as if he, too, had been caught off guard. There was a question hanging in the air, waiting to be asked.

Rikuo's eyes met his, confused and cautious. "You…I…you touched me."

Kazahaya inhaled, suppressing the sigh that stirred in his chest. "I know. Was I wrong?" A glance at the blood-smeared floor in front of him elicited a shudder. "I thought – I thought you were dead. You've been going on about dying and then you weren't eating…"

That green gaze dimmed. "You left me."

"I'm sorry, Rikuo. I broke my promise, didn't I?" To wipe away the hurt; to take away that look! To win back that trust that he'd offered him was going to take time. Foolishly, he'd thrown that aside and damaged it. "Were you…" The second question locked in his heart, and he was the one asking it. "Were you thinking about killing yourself tonight?"

"I – I wasn't."

"Then why? The shower? Why did you –"

Rikuo's eyes closed, shielding all readable emotion away. "You don't need to know."

"The washcloth is all bloody. Your skin –"

"It's none of your concern." The dull thud of Rikuo's head hitting the nightstand struck a beat of sound into the air. The boy's eyes stayed shut, dark lashes against blue-cold skin, and for the briefest second, Kazahaya swore he saw the old Rikuo back. Then, Rikuo sneezed, and the illusion disappeared as the shivering youth staggered to his feet, almost falling over. Viridian glanced his way, only to freeze in startled awareness. "How long was I out?"

Scrambling up, Kazahaya approached the nightstand – Rikuo had moved away slightly – and grabbed the alarm clock. Big red numbers glowed at him, nearly cheerful in the melancholy atmosphere. He saw his face reflected in the plastic, mouth shaping a reply. "I don't believe it! It's only four, Rikuo. When I found you, it wasn't even…" Noticing the stricken lines in Rikuo's face, Kazahaya trailed off, bewildered. Without meaning to, he slammed the clock down, only to wince as a jolt ripped through the other boy's body.

Rikuo was completely white. "That can't be."

"What?" Feeling helpless in the face of this newly revealed trauma was not an option. "You passed out, that's all. I overreacted, and –"

"No." Rikuo backed away from him, on the verge of a breakdown. Taut, stiff with fright, he seemed ready to bolt; instead, sinking down, his knees struck the floor with a thud. Kazahaya was beside him without thinking, but by then, his partner had curled within himself. His only working arm trembled as it lay around his head, and his words, raw with anguish, scraped an open wound into the disheartening quiet. "No. This can't be happening. Not again."

"Rikuo, what –"

"They hurt me last time when this happened." Rikuo wasn't even talking to him. The words were cutting, bleeding a wound that still ran slippery within. There was nothing he could do but listen. It was maddening, and Kazahaya bit his lip to restrain those all-too-ready tears. He'd cried enough. Rikuo's open hand clenched and an angry sob shredded any normality that could be resumed. "_I don't want this!"_

"Rikuo?" He dared not touch him.

"Why? Why? Dammit all, why?" A psychic shiver ripped through the room, dark and uncontrolled. Off in the distance, something cracked, tinkling to the floor. Kazahaya whirled, shock growing into terror as the room collapsed into night. He heard glass falling, piece by piece, onto the nightstand and off it. Rikuo's rage; Rikuo's horror; Rikuo's self-hatred – he tasted it in the air, tangible through the destruction caving in around him. He felt the room – the apartment – shaking, ready to fall apart. Rikuo's cries turned keen, full of self-loathing. "Damn it, why couldn't I do something about it?"

"Rikuo!"

"_Kudou-kun!"_ He heard Kakei before the older man, a shadow shaped in darkness, swept into the room. A door slammed hurriedly a second later, and the large bulk of Saiga joined him just as the plaster on one of the walls broke, sounding like a ragged ruin. Kazahaya couldn't even tell which wall had taken the full brunt of Rikuo's unfocused power. "_What happened to Rikuo?"_

"He'd passed out, and when I –"

Something snapped behind him. He yelped. He heard Saiga-san above the noise, above Rikuo's enraged screaming. "Boy, snap out of it! Giving in to your anger isn't going to help!"

"Kudou-kun, please," his boss demanded. "We need to know, or he'll bring the roof down on us!"

"I told him that he was out for a while. He got scared, and then – then, things started to break." Kazahaya shook, remembering the vagueness of Rikuo's self-directed remark. "Kakei-san, he said that they hurt him before when he'd passed out." He made out the shape of the other man's glasses; of the terrible dawning of knowledge in the other's eyes. "What did he mean by that?"

Another tinkling of glass, and this time, the hallway slipped into shadow. They were in complete darkness, and Kazahaya cursed himself an idiot for thinking about forgetting to switch off the bathroom light when Rikuo held their lives in his hands. The mirror, he reflected, hadn't even been replaced, yet. What he noticed was that none of the damage directly inflicted them, as if Rikuo knew that assaulting them wasn't smart. More to the point, was Rikuo deliberately trying not to hurt them, knowing that he was in the room?

Kazahaya bit his lip, tasting the iron of blood. If Rikuo had closed himself off because he broke a mirror, and nearly struck him, how was he going to react when this kind of ruin became apparent? When he was the one responsible for nearly leveling Green Drugstore, and the people in it?

"_No! No! Why couldn't I? Why am I so damn useless?"_

Useless. He'd heard that word before. His breath stuck in his throat, nearly choking him at the memory. Useless. Rikuo had used that exact term to describe himself after he broke the mirror. It was his part of the self-blame, and Kazahaya had been quick to deny it. The air sparked about him, still potent with Rikuo's haphazard ability. Before, the breaking was done in fear. Now, it was done through anger – a fury that channeled within, vexed Rikuo, and was tantamount to self-destruction of a different sort. It was still deadly, however, and he saw it in its physical manifestations.

Kakei-san evidently thought the same.

"Kudou-kun, use your ability now."

"_Now?"_ His head reeled, recalling fear, pain, and the splash of red blood. "Right now?"

"Do it, Kudou-kun!"

Kazahaya placed his hands on Rikuo's taut back, feeling the sensation of cloth and corded scars beneath his fingers. Rikuo wrenched away from him, crying out as if he'd been scalded, and the dark shape of Saiga intercepted him before he could make it far. Black upon black, and the larger figure of the older man held the struggling boy in a tight embrace. "Shhh…shhh, boy. It's okay. It's okay." For once, it wasn't Kakei-san playing mother.

Saiga-san stood in as the father comforting a tormented son.

What did that make him?

"_Kudou-kun!"_

That made him brother, partner, co-worker, and companion to Rikuo. His vision was hazy, the room changed, and someone caught him just as the memory he gleaned from Rikuo's mind froze his own in scarcely-spoken of horror and dread.

* * *

_Blood in his mouth. He'd bitten the bastard's hand when he tried to clamp it over his mouth to keep him silent. He met Toshiya's glare with his own – he wasn't backing down to him – and noticed that the man's hand bled steadily. Fiercely proud, but bitterly aware of the retaliation he was going to receive, he couldn't hold back the one question he'd been asking since his captivity._

"_Where's Tsukiko? What the hell did you do with her?"_

_Toshiya smiled at him, his face set and cold, and when the blow that struck him sent him to the cold, cold floor in a heap, he knew._

* * *

"Kudou-kun! Saiga, how's Rikuo?"

"He's quieted down some. I'll go and bring the flashlight up."

* * *

_Toshiya at his side, fingers cruelly tangled in his hair. He winced as the man pulled his head back, feeling as if his skull was going to be torn out. His vision blurred; he couldn't remember what exactly had happened beforehand, but he'd been ripped out of the fog and his knees drove into the floor with punishing weight._

"_Listen here, you little bitch. I don't like it when you don't know your place. Perhaps you'll learn once I put you where you belong."_

"_Toshiya! The boss doesn't allow for this kind of –"_

"_Shut the fuck up, Yoshiro! How did playing nice help that idiot Iwakare? The son-of-a-bitch killed him, and all you could do was play with glass!" The pressure on his skull increased, and his stomach hit the ledge of his "bed" hard. "Looks like he still has a mouth on him, and unlike you, I could give a fuck about what the rules are!"_

"_I'm not staying around to watch this, Toshiya."_

"_Did I ask you to?" A hard laugh echoed in the small room. "You go and play your games with the others. Leave this to me and my friends – we'll get him to listen and you won't have to throw stuff at him anymore."_

_A hesitant footstep out the door. "Don't kill him, Toshiya."_

"_Yeah, whatever, man! Get the fuck out already!" The door slammed, and Toshiya's breath near his ear tightened the knots coiling in his gut. "As for you…" The minute the hold on his hair loosened, he turned, desperate to escape. Escape to where? It didn't matter as long as he got out of the room. He threw an instinctual punch, knocking the man – frighteningly the same age as him – aside and onto the floor._

_The small space was bleak, gray, cold steel, and four corners that gave him no advantage. He tried the knob, aggravation and stabbing fear swelling when he realized that the bolt had been sprung. He was exhausted; his body ached and burned, and he felt disconnected between his ability and the mental fortitude he needed to carry it out. Something struck him in the head, hurling him to the corner._

"_You little piece of shit!" Disoriented, his alarm rose as Toshiya – face bruised purple – leaned in and seized a handful of his shirt. "Try that again, and I'll fucking kill you!" The man, gone totally cold, began dragging him towards the ledge that doubled as his prison bed. "Now get up there!"_

_He couldn't remove Toshiya's fingers from his shirt. Tried to, and half his lungs knocked out of him in a crippling blow that dropped him to his knees. "Bitch!" The edge smacked into his thighs and sank inward as he was pinned from behind. There was nothing in the room for him to break, and his arms twisted behind his back, sending shockwaves of pain that forced him to grit his teeth. "Fucking sonovabitch!" He wouldn't cry out – wouldn't scream._

"_You even struggle, and I'll make you wish you were dead."_

_He couldn't catch his breath. If he could, he would say something. He didn't know what._

_His jeans ripped – continued tearing as he writhed, aware of Toshiya's growing wrath. The fingers that clawed viciously at him drew blood, snagging on his boxers. He couldn't stop fighting back – couldn't just lay there and take it. The bones of his wrists ground together, and his arms strained as they were hoisted higher. Pain shot through his body, threatening to break through what remained of his self-control. Cloth slid around his ankles, and the beginnings of panic burst lucid in his brain._

_Toshiya's breath hot in his ear. "Never been fucked before, boy?"_

_He swallowed his cry of panic as the sound of a zipper becoming undone unnerved him. Above him, he was sure – ashamedly so – that the man could feel him shaking. He didn't want to scream; to admit that he, Rikuo, had lost._

_He did._

_Anything, anything but this! He couldn't think – could do nothing but scream. Impaled, he couldn't rise; pinned, he couldn't move, and his insides felt as if someone had taken a knife to it and savagely sawed him in two. He heard his voice, high and unlike his own – raw and terrible – drowning out the grunting behind him. His fingers deadened, went numb, and he would've welcomed back the glass instead of this. Salt on his lips, and warmth on his thighs. Agony knifing his spine, splitting him from the outside-in, and it never seemed to stop._

_Red, black, white imploded._

_He never even knew when Toshiya stopped. Just felt a hand – the hand he bit – run through his hair, grabbing it and the floor met him head-on. His entire body afire with pain, the impact tore a cry from his damaged throat. Faintly, he was aware that he lay in blood, felt it pooling in between his legs, and the metallic odor of it made him retch. The bitter taste of bile stung, nauseating him._

_There was a rustling of clothing and the click of the lock opening on the other side. Sound buzzed in his ears, distorted and strange, as if coming from afar. "I'm sure you won't give Yoshiro any more trouble," a voice said, chuckling. "Because if you do," and the tone went icy, "I'll cut you up good and then fuck you. They won't be able to save you, and you'll never see that pale bitch. Thinking about it, she looks a lot like you, doesn't she?"_

_Click of a lock; of a bolt being sprung._

_Everything spun, gray, black, and red, and then faded to nothing._

* * *

"Kudou-kun! Saiga, take him to his room. I fear Rikuo's memories infected him."

Kazahaya turned, unbearably hot. His mind felt muddled, slipping into darkness. He wanted to strain against something, but he was too overwhelmed by the heaviness that sank him into oblivion. Not wishing to fight it – not conscious of why – he let it overtake him completely.

* * *

"No! Why? _Why?_ Why did they do that to him?"

When he finally came to, Kazahaya shrieked. Utterly beside himself with Rikuo's residual emotions, he rocked back and forth on the bed, covering his face. Kakei-san quickly grabbed his hands, pulling them away, and he saw through the tears that Saiga-san and Rikuo were nowhere in sight. A circle of light illuminated the room – _his_ room – with warm yellow. It was freezing; he bundled himself in the blankets, hearing the wind howling through the broken window.

His tears began to fall.

"How's Rikuo, Kakei-san?" He needed to know. He understood a large part of it, now.

Kakei looked haggard in the sparse light. "Saiga got him to quiet down. He was sobbing when I left them and I think the storm is over. But he did a lot of damage to this place and we need to keep low. If the people who did this to him are alert to psychic disturbances, they might have felt this one."

"We can't let them find him. We can't."

"Are you still in pain, Kudou-kun? The last time you received Rikuo's memory of Tsukiko during the cinema job, the effects lasted for a while."

He shuddered, remembering with distaste and horror the full import of the agony, shame, and terror his formerly stalwart co-worker suffered. Kazahaya felt the blood drain from his face; felt himself growing cold and numb. Iwakare, Yoshiro, and that bastard Toshiya! They were the ones who made Rikuo suffer. Toshiya, he truly hated. Toshiya was the one who broke Rikuo; who left him unconscious in his own blood. Iwakare was dead. But the other two – were they still alive?

"Kudou-kun? Are you all right?"

He wasn't, and neither was Rikuo. "They…one of the men…Rikuo –"

The mattress squeaked as Kakei shifted closer, holding his hands tighter. At least it wasn't his wrists, Kazahaya thought. After what he'd experienced _through_ Rikuo's mind and eyes, he wasn't sure how he'd react to the same kind of touch. "Take it easy. Breathe. You're as pale as Rikuo is."

Was that supposed to make him feel better? "Rikuo killed one of the men. His name was Iwakare. I – I touched him when he passed out, Kakei-san. I got scared. They cut him with broken glass. There was blood."

"Did they do it telekinetically?"

"I think so. Rikuo – he smashed Iwakare's head open. Yoshiro –"

Kakei nodded across from him, deeply focused. He was very pretty and very tired. It wasn't every day he saw his boss like this, and tonight made all the other nights pale in comparison. A bruise from Rikuo's fist was nothing to Rikuo nearly leveling the entire top half of Green Drugstore. "That's our second man. What about him?"

"Yoshiro punished Rikuo for killing Iwakare. There was more blood, and Rikuo got cut by more glass. I didn't see anything else after that."

"And you saw that when?"

"I can't remember. When you gave me leave, it wasn't even night time, yet."

Kakei released one of his hands, rubbing wearily at the bridge of his nose. The dislodged glasses gleamed, skewed gracefully on an awkward slope. "You were screaming when you woke up. That was after I gave you the order to use your ability on Rikuo. What did you see that scared you like that?"

His mouth was dry. He tasted fear in it. "Toshiya…he and Yoshiro were talking, and Yoshiro…he left the room."

"What room?"

"It was a smaller room. There was nothing in it. All metal. It was cold in there." Kazahaya shivered despite the blankets. "There were no chains, no glass. No windows," he said, struck by the awful realization of why Rikuo couldn't do anything to get out. "The other room was bigger. It had a taller ceiling and they chained Rikuo in there. This room – they didn't need to."

"Go on."

"I think Rikuo hit Toshiya earlier. Toshiya hit him back. Rikuo didn't remember what happened before." His head hurt. "Toshiya was angry. He wanted to hurt Rikuo. Yoshiro...he didn't agree with Toshiya."

"Slowly, Kudou-kun. Take your time."

His breath hitched; the words becoming harder to say. Kazahaya pulled the bedspread, coverlet and all around him, unable to get warm. "Yoshiro – Yoshiro left. Rikuo, he…he tried to run, but the door was locked. He was scared, tired – he couldn't break it. Toshiya, he screamed…called him things…beat him." Averting his eyes, Kazahaya continued speaking. He couldn't meet Kakei-san's concerned gaze. "Toshiya…he tore…" He felt physically ill. "He tore Rikuo's pants off and…"

"Kudou-kun, it's all right. You don't need to say anymore."

His vision blurred with tears, and hastily wiping them away, Kazahaya timidly met the other pair of brown eyes in the room. Kakei-san looked as sick as he felt. The man's complexion was livid. "That explains most of it," Kakei intoned, sounding utterly detached. "That's why he's skittish. The abrasions. Trying to scrub himself clean, and he didn't care if doing so hurt him."

"Kakei-san…"

"Yes, Kudou-kun?"

He swallowed. "Toshiya mentioned he had 'friends'. What…what did he mean…?"

"It means this wasn't the first, or the last time. I don't know if they continued cutting him with glass, but this Toshiya evidently liked what he saw. He and his friends, if we follow the inference correctly –"

"What the boss is trying to say, kid, is that Rikuo was gang-raped." Saiga strode in, making a beeline straight for Kakei, as Kazahaya expected him to. What he didn't expect was how much colder his blood ran hearing Saiga-san's blunt explanation. "He has the scars and bruises to show for it. It was a lot of them against him by the looks of it, and all of them were particularly brutal. Damn it, Kakei – I'm getting one of your headaches just thinking about it."

"You've been getting a lot of headaches, and none of them are mine," the slighter male retorted. "I would've never expected…couldn't have seen this in Rikuo's future –"

"Of course you couldn't have. They were more powerful. They blocked you out."

"That's not making me feel better, Saiga. He's like one of my kids."

The sturdier male scoffed. "How do you think I feel, love? I saw the damn scars, and kept denying what I saw. But memories don't lie, and the kid saw it all. Did he get any names?"

"Yes. Iwakare, Yoshiro, and Toshiya. The first bastard is dead – Rikuo killed him in self-defense. It's the other two we want. I have a peculiar interest in seeing the last scumbag dead when we find him."

"Saiga-san," Kazahaya interrupted, disturbed by how quickly the mention of revenge surfaced. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Toshiya dead, but…. "What about Rikuo? How is he?"

"He's asleep. I washed him so that he wouldn't hurt himself anymore, and so he could warm up. I'm surprised he didn't freeze, boy. Certainly cold enough with him blowing out all the windows."

"Saiga, they imprisoned him in an unheated chamber. It wouldn't have mattered; not after what they did to him. He was probably hoping he would die and he didn't."

"Rikuo trusts you." Kazahaya said matter-of-factly, watching as attention focused his way. "He trusts you, Saiga-san."

Saiga shook his head, as if regretful. "No more than before, boy. He's scared himself, and that made it easier. Knowing him, he's the kind to bottle everything up, and tonight, a trigger set off an explosion. It's a breakthrough for him. Until he made the choice to face what happened and to react, there was nothing we could do for him. Still," the man grimaced, looking around behind his shades, "I didn't count on him to break so much."

"It's Rikuo," Kakei said emphatically. "It almost shouldn't be surprising."

"Almost," the other man countered, finally sitting down and throwing an arm around Kakei's shoulders. "We have bills to pay, love."

"This was his first choice. He's taking back control, even though he's lost it."

"I'm not following you, Kakei. He nearly ripped the damn roof off our heads and destroyed most of our lights and fixtures in the process."

"He allowed himself to get angry. He was afraid before, remember?"

"Ah, I get it. Do you think he's going to pull away?" It was one of the questions Kazahaya himself feared to ask. "Are we going to have difficulties reaching out to him?"

"Not this time, no."

"Kakei-san, I'm cold." The winter wind chilled him, mingling with the soul-deep iciness that originated from Rikuo's blood-drenched memories. Sometimes, he wished he could forego his ability to empathize, read, and absorb past events and emotions. But if he wasn't born with this gift – or curse, depending which way he chose to see it – Rikuo would be gone for good. He and Rikuo might not have met that Christmas, because he wouldn't be a runaway. Thinking quickly to the present – to _now_ – he cringed.

Rikuo trapped between four walls, unable to understand what was to come. Rikuo, mind and body shattered, left unable to trust. Rikuo destroyed, lying in blood after being brutally raped. Rikuo – strong, brash, protective, and sarcastic. All of that viciously erased.

All of that, and without _him_ there?

Kazahaya shoved the thought away, fighting off another case of the shivers.

"Take him downstairs, Kakei. I'll stay here and tape up the windows. Rikuo's on the couch; I guess you can make room for another. It'll probably be best to put a divider between them. Oh, and Kakei – there's still hot water for both of you. Rikuo needed a lot of it."

"Poor boy."

"I won't be long." Saiga stood, casting a broad shadow on the wall. Kazahaya reached out for the flashlight, holding it to him like a talisman. A hot shower and a soft bed. Heat to thaw his bones, and a pillow for his head. He wouldn't mind sleeping downstairs in the break room, away from the ruins of glass and plaster. "Boy, I realized one thing. You didn't turn red this entire time. It surprised me; although, it shouldn't have."

"Why?"

"Didn't you see that Rikuo was nearly naked?"

He stumbled out from beneath the covers, leaning heavily into Kakei-san's comforting grasp. "It's not the same anymore." Yawning, he willed the night to end. The flashlight was gently pried from his hand. "I thought I was going to lose him."

"Come on, Kudou-kun. Let's put you to bed. It's been a long night for all of us."

"Good night, kid."

Kazahaya turned – saw Saiga's poker face staring sympathetically back at him. "Good night, Saiga-san."


	9. Unveiled Darks

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 9**

"What did I return for?" Rikuo stared straight at the half-opened door; shame keeping those striking eyes away from him. If he gazed into them, Kazahaya was sure he'll see the jumbled ruins reflected in viridian. "I broke too much. I'm no good here."

"Don't say that, Rikuo."

The other boy buried his face into his arm; shudders wracking his large but withered frame. "I shouldn't have left," he mumbled, and Kazahaya could paint the words black for all the despair inherent in them. "Only good for one thing after that. I – I can't stay."

The railing against his back chilled like ice, leeching heat from beneath his layers of clothing. Was it always this cold, even in the dead of winter? Kazahaya shivered and jerked the collar of his coat up to shield his frozen ears. "Why did you want to see this, Rikuo?"

The edges of Rikuo's lips twisted. "To prove a point."

"What point?" he asked stupidly, staring at the carven features of Rikuo's profile. Bitterness and sardonic awareness etched lines in that too young face, while scorn hardened a beautiful pair of moss-green eyes. "What point are you trying to prove so that you'll run out here without telling me, freaking me out?"

Not to mention at the crack of dawn, before anyone else was awake. He never was a shallow sleeper before, but Rikuo was making him one. If Rikuo disappeared, abducted by Toshiya and his "friends", Kazahaya would never forgive himself; which explained his sudden leap out of bed, snatching a sweater and an overcoat when he realized the dark-haired boy was gone. Like it or not, both articles of clothing belonged to Kakei-san, and he stormed pell-mell out of the store cursing. Then, he'd noticed Rikuo sitting against the railing leading up to the third floor.

If he'd been any older, he would've gotten a heart attack.

"What point?" Rikuo reiterated beside him, shifting. The deep voice thickened with self-loathing, and Kazahaya watched as the other boy struggled to his feet. Rikuo hadn't gone more than a few steps before bracing himself against the door frame; his expression directed far into the darkness of their ruined apartment. The once proud arc of his back was bent, heavily depressed by unspeakable pain and turmoil. "I had to see for myself what I am now. You know what this proves, Kazahaya?"

He didn't dare answer.

"This…" Rikuo's dark head bowed, while his hand trembled against the frame. "This proves I'm no good. Not to you, not to them, and not to myself. What do I have left? I'm worthless…so broken. I'm not fit for your company anymore, Kazahaya. It's true, after all. I can't stay here."

"Where will you go?"

"Back to them. I'm only good for one thing now."

_"You nearly died!"_ Startled by how loud he was, Kazahaya lowered his voice. Scrambling to his feet, he broadsided Rikuo. The younger man blanched, flattening himself against the door frame. Rikuo stared wide-eyed at him, stunned. Kazahaya clenched his fists, trying to stem back the panic he felt upon knowing of Rikuo's plans. What was he thinking? Going back there – to _those_ brutes? "It's all lies, Rikuo! Who told you that you're worthless?"

"Does it matter?"

Memories – two of them, blood-drenched and stifling with humiliation and cruelty. Nightmares that was never imaginary but always real – too real. Rikuo bore the scars, the indignity, and the memories of what was and what could've been. And yet, he wanted to run back there? Kazahaya sputtered, unable to coherently piece together the scattered thoughts in his mind. "I don't believe what I'm hearing! You want to go back and die?"

Rikuo wanly smiled. "I didn't say that."

"Rikuo…" Fisting his hair in his hands, Kazahaya dropped his arms and glared at the pale apparition standing beside him. "I saw some of your memories last night, okay? I saw what was done to you, and I don't want you to go back there!"

The taller male visibly flinched. "You saw _what_?"

There was no going back now. "I saw Iwakare killed. I know why you're afraid of broken glass. Don't you remember, Rikuo? I can see and feel your memories if you let your guard down. Rikuo, I felt so much pain."

Rikuo didn't look at him; instead, focusing on the concrete beneath their feet. Kazahaya swallowed the lump in his throat. He could only imagine what Rikuo felt, with his ordeal known to someone other than himself. It must hurt, to have fallen so far – to no longer be strong. To have someone that used to be weaker now pitying him. "What else…" Rikuo inhaled sharply, visibly shaken. His knuckles were white, with fingers clinging too tightly to steel. Light swelled from his eyes and gleamed down his cheeks. "What else did you see?"

Silence.

How was he going to mention Toshiya's name without wounding Rikuo? What could he say without evoking terror? "Rikuo –"

"Please." It was unlike the old Rikuo to beg. His heart ached to hear it. "Kazahaya, what _did_ you see?"

"Rikuo, I saw Toshiya. I saw what he –"

**_BANG!_**

Kazahaya jumped halfway out of his skin; Rikuo lurched forward, stumbling blindly inside, and the door swung back on protesting hinges. Collecting his composure, Kazahaya followed the other psychic inside. Rikuo had run hell-bent into the place without a cry or a word. It all happened so quickly that the only afterimage imprinted in his mind was Rikuo's right hand swinging out, slamming the door inward. His left arm, bound in its sling, was incapable of moving. Kazahaya ran in, ignoring the slight traces of broken glass and plaster from the night before. Those didn't matter.

Someone else did.

By the time he opened the curtain to Rikuo's room, he knew. Rikuo's dark hair was wet with blood, framed by sharp shards of glass. His right hand splayed out, black against other pinpricks of light. There was a steady flow of red, nearly black in the dim light. The lamp had been knocked askew off the nightstand, dangling by its electric cord, while the alarm clock lay on its side. Its iconic plastic face was shattered, spider webbed with lines of white. Kneeling for what seemed to be the hundredth time in less than a few days, Kazahaya tentatively reached out, then took Rikuo's bleeding hand into his.

This wasn't the first time Rikuo had fallen. He just didn't expect to see it like this.

"Rikuo?"

The boy shivered. He hadn't been wearing much outside to begin with but Kazahaya could tell that wasn't the issue here. Already, the bottom half of his shirt was soaked red. "Why?" It was a question he had no answer for. "Oh, why?"

"Rikuo?"

"Why did you have to see that?" The moan was nearly a sob. "Why did you –"

"I'm sorry, Rikuo. I had to."

Unsurprisingly, Rikuo yanked his hand away from him. His own fingers slid with blood, sticky and wet. Pleadingly, those eyes – dark and beautiful – begged him what words could inadequately ask. They were haunting in that pallid face, now swathed in crimson and black. "You can't, Kazahaya. Don't, please."

"Rikuo, I understand what you're feeling."

"You don't understand anything," the other youth spat. "You don't know what it feels like. I'm still living in the nightmares. You can't protect me – none of you can."

"But you're here."

"You think that makes a difference?" Tears streamed down that chiseled face, mingling with blood. "You think that's going to stop Toshiya from hunting me down when he knows I'm alive? What can you do to stop him?"

"Is that why you're thinking about giving yourself up?"

"I told you – I'm worthless. The only person who still has use for me is him."

Kazahaya shuddered, flattening his palms against his thighs. "Him and his 'friends', right? Are they the ones who told you that nonsense?" Rikuo's pallor heightened; he struck a bit too close to where most of the pain lay. "And you believed them?"

"It was all true in the end."

The older psychic grimaced. Cataloguing the series of events that started since Rikuo's return gave him incidents like this. The endless nights of screaming, the panic attacks, the breaking of mirrors and nearly all of Green Drugstore's top levels, and it should've been ridiculous that he was talking to Rikuo so early in the morning when they hadn't even eaten breakfast, yet. However, there was nothing remotely moronic about this. Not when Rikuo was so deathly afraid of Toshiya, spilling out his fears while lying in blood.

He fought off an involuntary shiver. That image struck too close for him.

"Why…" It was his turn to ask. "Why would you go back to him if you're so scared of him?"

Another tear slid down. "At least I can die and he can end the nightmares. It never stops repeating for me, here."

_And if you go back to him, he might not end it for you, either._ Toshiya's brutality must've been appalling, if Rikuo was seeing shadows of him everywhere. There must've been more to this than what he saw. Then, he remembered Saiga-san's confirmed hunch and he felt sick. He couldn't wrap his mind around the scale of cruelty – if it even existed for them. His once-pristine thoughts simply couldn't conjure how horrendous the torture must've been. Toshiya was terrifying on his own; how much more when the others were accounted for? "Is this why you won't let us touch you?"

The staring eyes were haunted, seeing phantoms in daylight. "They never stopped raping me. _He_ never stopped. They should've just killed me."

"Rikuo," Kazahaya breathed, heartbroken. What else could he say to _that_?

"He was right…in the end, I was good for nothing else. I shouldn't have returned. You have to let me go, Kazahaya. I'm too dangerous to be around."

"I'm not leaving you, Rikuo. They'll have to get through us before they can get you. I won't let that happen."

Choking laughter, achingly painful, broke the fleeting silence. "You can't do that, Kazahaya. Have you seen what they've _done_ to me? If I can't protect myself, I can't help you. Don't try to be like me, Kazahaya." Weariness creased the gentle line of Rikuo's brow. "I didn't ask for this to happen."

"I know you didn't. You're not a glutton for punishment, Rikuo. I am."

"No." Rikuo's voice was soft. "You're not."

Tears pricked his eyes. Kazahaya blinked, not wanting to cry upon Rikuo's sorrow. "You're not, either. What do you want me to say?"

"Don't play the hero. I'm not what I used to be," the jade-eyed boy murmured. "Nothing matters anymore, Kazahaya. There's nothing left for me. He's proved his point."

Kazahaya seethed, doubling his fists in his lap in an effort to contain his rage. Kakei-san wanted Toshiya dead but the killing blow belonged to him. "And you think this," he stared at the broken appliances and looked down at Rikuo, "proves his point?"

"Doesn't it?"

Shattered lights. Cracked mirrors. Damaged walls. A broken life. The others could be fixed, mended with time, materials, and money. _Rikuo…._ Rikuo's world had crippled him and thrown him aside. Playing the hero was no longer good – not a trait worth emulating. His fellow psychic was afraid of himself, of what he'd been and what he'd become. It left him impossibly wounded, unable to reconcile his identity.

Then, there were those lies.

Whatever Toshiya had told him, Rikuo had accepted at face value. For all Kazahaya knew, perhaps the verbal abuse was unending in those horrific weeks. Obviously cowed by the unceasing violence, the insults did little better to bolster what remained of a once confident young man. He recalled the pawing hands, the violence and the pain, and the foul words that lingered from the residual memory, and he knew it was so.

"I don't think it proves anything other than you're scared, Rikuo."

"I was afraid before. This is worse." Kazahaya shrugged free of his overcoat, draping it over Rikuo's huddled form as the other's shivering increased. Vacancy entered those miserable eyes, drew the lines of that handsome face into an anguished mask, and it seemed like Rikuo saw far beyond the confines of the walls.

When he started to speak, the smaller psychic realized why.

"They all took turns on me. It didn't matter if I was sick or barely conscious. They didn't care. The only one who did…well, he couldn't do anything about it."

"Who was he?"

A sigh, and Rikuo's eyes closed. "Eichiro. Made sure I didn't die and was clean."

Reeling at the implications of that last statement, Kazahaya glanced down and was profoundly disturbed. Rikuo was entirely too calm, too quiet to be giving out details like that. As for himself – he was taking this all in, unsettled; yet, unwilling to silence the pained voice. It was preferable to the heavy unease when Rikuo didn't speak. But Nayuki from the all-boys school said that he noticed things other people didn't. He noticed the thin sheen of sweat coating Rikuo's forehead, the slight tremor of his fingers, and the silent syllables that shaped his lips.

There was nothing he could do about it.

"You know his name."

"I knew all their names." Rikuo pulled the overcoat closer, pale fingers curling except for the ones still splinted. "Not that it did me any good. Toshiya liked to hear me scream. When he wanted it, nothing I did helped. When they all wanted it –"

"Rikuo." He wasn't going to cry, dammit! "You don't have to."

"No." Rikuo shook his head, smearing blood anew on his face and as much as Kazahaya loved that stubbornness, he was aware of the pervading misery he felt. It was reflected in those shadowed eyes, the tightness of the jaw, the contortion altering what was handsome and young into something years older. He wondered if his expression mirrored Rikuo's. "When they all wanted it, I…I gave it to them."

"Rikuo…why are you telling me all this?"

"You've already seen what Toshiya did to me. There's nothing left to hide."

It was probably eight or nine by now. He had no idea how long they've been talking, quietly and both of them exhausted from a short night's worth of sleep and too much soul-searching. There were no footfalls at the door, or calls from below to see how they were doing. He'd only uncovered part of the mystery but not all. Kazahaya hated Toshiya and his lackeys – driven further to it by Rikuo's defeated demeanor. "Rikuo, do you trust me?"

"I'm a whore, Kazahaya." Acrimony scalded like acid from each word. "Does it matter?"

He shouldn't have asked. It cost Rikuo too much. "Did they call you _that_?" He was too shrill, too furious, and too damnably outraged to care that his voice rose. "You have a choice not to listen to them, Rikuo!"

"I wasn't given any choices, Kazahaya! You don't get choices when you're theirs. You wouldn't understand. You weren't there."

"You can't do this to yourself!"

"It's who I am now. It really…" Several tears dotted the floor, patterning the monotonous shade of red with patches of white. Rikuo drew in his breath, near the verge of collapse. "It _doesn't_ matter."

Kazahaya sighed, dropping his head into his hands. Rikuo placed so much trust in him, breaking his heart in the process. The details of his suffering compounded by what he knew about Saiga-san's observations and the chilling memory of Toshiya revealed an atrocity beyond the magnitude of his worst imagination. Blood on metal, bare skin against steel, the life-shattering agony multiplied so many times and did he have to ask why Rikuo barely clung onto sanity? He remembered clearly what he told Nayuki – how incredulous he was that anyone could be forced into sex – and how the other boy told him he was too pretty for modesty.

It happened, though. It didn't happen to him, as dreadful as the outcome would've been. Instead, it happened to Rikuo, and none of them expected that.

His head hurt.

That was the worst about it all. If he was hurting – if he was the victim – Rikuo would be angry. Rikuo would be able to fight back to protect him. What could he do, short of relying on Saiga-san and Kakei-san for assistance? No – the most horrible was that Rikuo was blindsided by Toshiya, completely taken unawares, and then forced to break. His friend had to watch himself shatter, unable to prevent it. Rikuo had no choice about that.

Rikuo had no choice about anything at all.

He didn't want Rikuo to be right on that; unfortunately, he was.

Kazahaya was glad that Nayuki and Mukoufujiwara couldn't see Rikuo in his current condition. The mere thought brought tears to his eyes. The difference – how was he to describe the before and after? How could he stand the reactions of those who once knew them, seeing their shock and pity at how badly Rikuo survived? At how the gauntness ate away his face or how devastated his expressions were? At the names and terms he called himself; at the suicidal thought of returning to his captors where rape was a certainty and death wasn't a guarantee?

"Kazahaya?"

He gazed through a haze of mist at the blur of black and red. "Rikuo?"

"I'm so tired."

So was he. "Are you hungry? Do you want to eat?"

"No. I just want to sleep. I don't want to wake up. He's always there when I do."

His knees were stiff. "Nobody's here but me, Rikuo. Nobody's going to hurt you."

"I only wish that was true."

"Rikuo," he whispered, running a hand over matted hair, wiping away cold sweat and dried blood. "Go to sleep. I'll be here." Beneath his fingers, he felt Rikuo start at his touch, and mourned at how the taller boy once loomed over him, gleeful at invading his personal space. It was an incalculable loss. "I'm here. No one's going to hurt you."

After a long wait, Kazahaya finally saw those eyes close, dark lashes against stark skin. Rikuo's breathing settled, and the older boy knew that everything he heard was remaining a secret. Kakei-san and Saiga-san might ask, but he wasn't obligated to tell them. Only enough to give them leads, but not enough to embarrass Rikuo. He would hear the footsteps at the door soon; the swish of the curtain and the troubled looks giving way into dawning comprehension. Rikuo would still be asleep, then; perhaps later, he would follow.

Rikuo hadn't answered his question; yet, in a way, he did.

"Thank you, Rikuo." Withdrawing his hand from Rikuo's cheek, Kazahaya laid down. In spite of the morning sun, the covered windows admitted very little light. Caught in between the inky shadows of the ruined room and the faint traces of dust motes, Kazahaya curled his fingers together.

Rikuo, despite the raw fear he sensed, allowed him to touch him.

Kakei-san, for the innumerable time since he was here, was correct again on all counts. The distancing, the silence, the tightly guarded hurt that made conversation impossible was slowly starting to unwind. Rikuo had allowed him to touch him.

Only him. _Not Saiga-san._ Only him.

It was a beginning.

"Rikuo," he whispered, glancing at the relaxed features of the youth across from him. He would be here, as he'd promised. There would be no more broken promises.

Now, Rikuo could heal.


	10. Dawning Cerulean

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 10**

"No…no!" Rikuo gasped beside him, immediately rolling him to his knees. "No…you can't! Eichiro!" Kazahaya placed his hands flat on the floor, suddenly aware that this memory wouldn't be one he'd like to experience. At least not without Rikuo's first and foremost permission. _"Eichiro!"_

He'd barely slept, the older psychic thought worriedly. His boss hadn't checked on them, yet, either and it wasn't like the younger man to have nightmares so early. Unless…. Kazahaya bit his lip, flushing guiltily. Unless his talk with Rikuo earlier re-opened those wounds, gouged anew those memories, and brought it all back from a mind that tried desperately to suppress them. But, he realized, those wounds had never healed.

Rikuo had told him as much – that he saw the shadow of Toshiya wherever he was. This was why he dreaded living, breathing, even so much as greeting the day or evening from an eventful night's rest or afternoon nap. Because, Kazahaya thought with increasing horror, there were no such pleasantries where he used to be. There was the unconsciousness brought about by vicious abuse, and the rude awakening that only meant another day of pain.

Awakening was to stare into the face of the beast itself, and that beast wore Toshiya's face.

How did he _ever_ survive?

Rikuo twisted beneath the overcoat, throwing it off in a frenzy that pooled cloth next to Kazahaya's knees. Instinctively, he jerked his hands back, away from the garment that once adorned his shoulders. If he touched it, he would be sprawled atop Rikuo, with little better to offer than his useless weight and the sheer alarm it would provoke. The taller boy writhed, long limbs skidding against the white hardness of concrete, as if trying to escape innumerable hands.

It was a sobering sight.

"Rikuo," he said, unsure of where to proceed. Rikuo could heal, but the process was already taxing his limits. He feared the onset of yet another headache, which could give him migraines in the long run if this kept up. _Saiga-san must've felt this_, Kazahaya tiredly mused. All without the aid of a couple pills; then again, aspirin would do little good against the intensity and frequency of how often these headaches came. "Rikuo…"

A leg lashed out, kicking at an invisible assailant that Kazahaya couldn't see. The shaking had gotten worse, and he moved back as Rikuo thrashed, as if drowning in nightmarish waters. "No…no," the boy moaned, and Kazahaya glimpsed the glassiness in those unseeing eyes as they stared at tormentors too brazen to care. They weren't here, he argued with himself, but he understood – a little too late, perhaps – what Rikuo meant. He could sense their presence, for Rikuo brought the fear, the shame, the very acknowledgment of what they've done to him, and the unflinching fact that they hurt him still right into Green Drugstore.

He eyed the blood on the floor, the broken bits of glass that shone dangerously near Rikuo's head, the stained shirt that wound around a straining torso, and wondered if Rikuo realized how closely his current state mirrored that of those in his memories. It was an accident – everything was – but the fact that Rikuo bled so often and didn't seem to register it struck him as deliberate. Even now, his partner wallowed in blood, caught in the throes of a past anguish.

Unless he misjudged himself, it almost seemed like…

_"No!"_

The scream ripped into his thoughts; tore the thread of his pondering away. Rikuo jerked spastically beside him, mouth open in a piercing cry. _"No! You can't! You can't!"_ It disturbed Kazahaya at how the other's fingers clenched at his belly, at how the heels of his feet ground into the floor as if resisting terrible pain. The green irises were glazed, the redness of his mouth bright against a face wet with sweat, and crimson cloth scrunching as Rikuo's body buckled, jackknifing into itself. The shrunken shoulders trembled, sharp bones visible beneath the sweat-drenched shirt, and he noticed how convulsively Rikuo's hand dug into the exposed flesh of his midsection.

That was when the thoughts came back, unwelcome and horrible.

"Rikuo," he said, sidestepping the oversized coat, the blood, and the glass, "it's Kazahaya. No one's going to hurt you." Gently, he took a hold of that clawing hand, pulling it away from a stomach that already burned angrily with red welts. There were traces of rust beneath his nails – evidence of dried blood. He didn't know if they came from the wounds beforehand, or the new ones just recently scored. They didn't seem to be bleeding, but it was hard to tell. "Rikuo," he asked softly, to temper the tension with kindness, "I need you to sit up, please."

It was over.

He could feel it through the pressure in Rikuo's hand; at how the fingers curled around his, limp and weak. Kazahaya rubbed the sweat off his forehead, breathing a sigh of relief. As quickly as it occurred, it was over. He supposed he was getting used to it, especially after attending those nights when sleep wasn't an option for him, either. It was just the first time he'd seen Rikuo react as if physically attacked; the other times were out of pure panic.

He didn't know which one was worse.

"Rikuo," he said again, stressing his concern. "Please. I need you to sit up. You're bleeding." His skin was also clammy, uncomfortably cold whereas his hand burned. "Rikuo, please."

Rikuo couldn't see him – didn't want to see him, or have him read the depth of pain that undoubtedly lay behind those eyes. They were closed, lids drawn tight in a face that was already too thin for comfort. "I can't," that bleeding form said, lips shaping words that were mere whispers. "It hurts too much."

_What the…?_

"Rikuo?"

A feeble squeeze against his fingers, and he held on, not wanting to break contact. It seemed like every time they made progress, they were also forced to step back. "It hurts, Kazahaya." Rikuo's voice was hoarse, unbearably so. It reminded him of those weeks back, when even a sound was miraculous. Before all the screaming began that disrupted his nights and brought the shade of torment into their lives. Not Rikuo's, though – he _was_ it, sadly enough. "Kazahaya…"

"Rikuo?"

"He's still here."

"No, he's not." Damn that bastard! "I am, Rikuo."

"I know." He felt the pressure on his hand ease, fingers slackening. "I can't…forget…" Before he could react, Rikuo's hand slipped out of his, falling to the floor with a quiet smack. Glancing quickly at Rikuo's waxen face, he shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around the unconscious boy's chest, hauling him up. Weeks ago, he wouldn't have been able to move the towering lug, so muscle-bound was he. The fact that he could now jarred him, with emotions that were indescribable.

It shouldn't be but it was. He couldn't deny it.

Propping Rikuo against the bed, Kazahaya scampered off towards the bathroom, where he grabbed a roll of bandages, filled a mug with water, and whipped a washcloth straight off the bar in rapid succession. It was just as well that the plumbing didn't break along with the lights or he'll be in trouble. He scrambled back to the room in even less time, kneeling and slamming the mug down so that water splashed out. He always was somewhat a klutz but for today, he'll ignore the self-jibing insult.

The brilliant white cloth quickly turned pink, then red. Most of the bleeding on Rikuo's face stemmed from a cut on his scalp, which he cleaned and hoped would scab over. He lost track of time, doing what he could to bring the other around. Wiping the sweat off didn't flicker those eyelids, so he proceeded to bandage those wounded fingers, wrapping the fabric tightly around the palm. No one ever taught him first aid, so if the results were a little off, it made sense. The cuts in Rikuo's side and the welts on his stomach were more serious, needing another trip back to replenish the water.

Thankfully, there were enough bandages for the both of them – not that he needed any.

As he cleansed and did a fool's fumbling with getting the gauze around an intensely thin abdomen, Kazahaya jogged his memory. Rikuo hadn't eaten in days. Add that situation into the lack of sleep, the re-traumatization, and the new injuries and it didn't take clairvoyance to see why his partner passed out. He resolved to get some juice into the guy, give or take Rikuo's cooperation or resistance. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't be the latter.

That was the issue that brought the dormant thoughts back – the thoughts he tried to suppress because the truth hurt. The piecing together of scenarios, the little details, all of the things he'd missed earlier on due to the noise, the chaos, and the hand-wringing.

Rikuo deliberately punished himself.

Kazahaya stood, balancing the mug full of bloody water, the sodden washcloth, and the roll of bandages with catlike grace. It was obvious now, looking back at the events that played before him a couple weeks ago. Rikuo's refusal to eat, the bloody streak he left on the bathroom floor shortly after their little incident, the abrasions, and the numbness to the wounding he received from the glass. If he'd felt it, Rikuo never let him know.

But why would he feel compelled to do such a thing?

His knees ached from kneeling so often, and Kazahaya gladly dumped the filthy water and the washcloth in the sink. Playing nursemaid was harder than it looked; perhaps why Kakei-san relegated the duty to him. It wasn't like Rikuo took easily to his boss or Saiga-san, for reasons already explained. The last time Kakei-san tried to help out, he got a bruise for his trouble. As for Saiga-san…. Kazahaya remembered all too well what happened with that incident.

Days of unending silence. Terrified screaming that turned into passive submission. Broken glass, the beginnings of guilt, and the terrible knowledge that he nearly lost the one he'd wanted to save. They've come a short distance now that Rikuo allowed his smallest touch – allowed him to hold onto his hand. Rikuo even responded, if only for that brief moment, by squeezing his hand back. But none of that would make a difference if Rikuo hurt himself.

To make matters worse, Rikuo couldn't forget Toshiya.

Toshiya superseded the fate of Tsukiko, which could only mean two things. Kazahaya left the bathroom, leaning against the wall to support his exhausted weight. He'd never had to think like this before – in conjectures, questions, and details, nonetheless. He'd never had to infer before based on conversations, little hints – never really in order to solve a mystery. Kakei-san's weird side jobs _were_ those, he admitted but not on a scale like this. Back then, Rikuo solved the mysteries for him and he was further enlightened by Kakei-san once they returned.

He could use some enlightening now, he reflected wearily.

First, Kazahaya prompted firmly, Tsukiko wasn't mentioned at all whenever he talked to Rikuo. She was still there in his nightmares, causing those moans and cries that had him ripping aside the curtain at two o'clock in the morning. If Tsukiko dominated the evening, Toshiya controlled the day. Either Tsukiko wasn't all that important in the scheme of things – however, that discredited many questions, least of all Rikuo's nocturnal distress – or Toshiya was the most terrible aspect during those several weeks' imprisonment. Secondly, what if Tsukiko's fate was so shatteringly dreadful that Rikuo simply tried to forget? What if Tsukiko's fate was the worst part of it all, even with Toshiya's brutality?

No wonder his fellow psychic was a mess.

Reverse the situation, put him in Rikuo's place, throw Kei into strange circumstances, and he'll probably end up the same way. Without question, he'll be an utter wreck, driving Rikuo insane. They were all guesses, but Kazahaya felt that they offered some reasonable explanations. He wouldn't pose any of them to Rikuo, of course, but they were handy reminders. They were, however, food for thought that Kakei-san and Saiga-san might be interested in.

Raising his head at the sound of padded footsteps, he glimpsed the starch-white of a familiar pharmaceutical coat, the shine of rims, and the fall of brown hair peeking over the threshold of the open door. Pushing himself off the wall, Kazahaya went to greet Kakei-san, with whom he had some things to discuss.

* * *

The other's eyes were a rich shade of brown, nearly amber in the dim light. They were also extremely serious, like those of a doctor's. "How is he?" Kakei asked, moving down the hallway alongside him. They would've been nearly the same height, if his growth didn't play jokes on him and leave him stunted. It was one of the damages he blamed puberty for. He had no chance of catching up with Rikuo or Saiga-san but Kakei-san? Surely, it wasn't fair he was the shortest in the group. "I knew you would go after him but I didn't expect him to come here." 

"He had to see it for himself," he replied. "Someone had to be there with him."

"Well, I'm glad it was you and not one of his enemies."

Kazahaya shivered. "How's Saiga-san doing with that? Rikuo's afraid that Toshiya would come looking for him. He doesn't feel safe, Kakei-san."

"I didn't expect him to." They stopped before the curtain. "Has he had any episodes?"

"You mean flashbacks? Nightmares? Something like that?"

"Yes," his boss said, not unkindly.

"Well," he started to say, fidgeting at the recollection, "he had a flashback before you came, Kakei-san. He was sleeping and then he started gasping and screaming. Kakei-san, he moved as if someone was attacking him. Then, after he got over it, he told me that Toshiya was still there with him. He said that he hurt too much to move. Kakei-san, I don't know what he's talking about."

"I'll explain it to you later."

Somehow, he knew Kakei-san would hold him accountable for Rikuo's condition. He knew it even as the curtain swung open, to tell the truth. Instantly, the owner of Green Drugstore was checking the insensible boy's pulse and breathing, while Kazahaya gazed down, hoping that color was returning to Rikuo's cheeks and the light wasn't playing tricks on his eyes. After an agonizing minute or so, his boss nodded at him.

"I take it he passed out not long after his episode?"

"We were talking before he did."

The precog murmured something, removing both middle and ring fingers from a bony wrist. "It could be the repercussions of a concussion or he simply didn't eat much, so his body gave out. Kudou-kun, good job on the bandages, even if your work is a bit untidy. It'll do until it needs replacing." The corners of Kakei's mouth bent in a frown. "The glass will have to go. That's your job, Kudou-kun. He needs some nourishment. We can start light."

"I was thinking about giving him some juice."

"If he takes that, he'll be able to eat solids after a while. It shouldn't take more than a week if he's consistent. When he wakes up, see if you can coax some into him."

"Kakei-san –"

"Yes, Kudou-kun?"

"What was it you were going to explain?"

"Right." Kakei turned to face him, gazing up. "What Rikuo experienced was more than a sudden image, or a remembrance of what was. From what you've told me, he completely relived the assault. That's why he moved the way he did. That's why he's hurting all over again. How exactly did he move?"

"He was ripping at his stomach, Kakei-san. His feet were pushing against the floor."

"Sounds like the work of that Toshiya fellow, doesn't it? Some people have the same bodily reactions during these episodes. Rikuo re-experienced the pain of the rape, and his body remembered it. It must've been hard," the other psychic said, "for you to see that. Kudou-kun, are _you_ all right?"

"Besides a few headaches, I'm fine."

"Here." A box of aspirins was firmly deposited into his hand. "Take that. I know what it's like to have headaches and to be around someone who has them. Not only do you need it, but I don't want both of you complaining about migraines."

Kazahaya smiled. It was hard not to with what Kakei-san implied. "Saiga-san?"

"He's busy but he's always saying something about getting my headaches. As if I don't have enough of mine to spare. It's not as if they're contagious."

"Oh." It was funny seeing his boss pout. "Kakei-san, I've been thinking and I want you and Saiga-san to know. I think Tsukiko is bothering Rikuo but he's too afraid to confront it. Toshiya's the one that scares him now, but he still has nightmares. All of them are about her. I think I need to know more about her than Toshiya, even if he's important, too."

"You have to figure out Toshiya to figure out her role, Kudou-kun."

"But we know what he…did to Rikuo," he stammered. "It never ties into Tsukiko."

"That's not true." He sat down heavily on Rikuo's bed, too fraught with anxiety to worry about his empathy kicking in. Kakei stood and joined him, creasing the sheets and depressing the mattress. "They're all high-level psychics. Even if this Toshiya enjoys raping and torturing, he has some ability we're unaware of. The only people who could spirit Tsukiko away would be people like them. Only psychics stronger than Rikuo could capture and hurt him so badly. If there's any link to Tsukiko, you have to go through Toshiya first."

"You mean…?"

"Whatever you see, whatever you hear – remember it. I have no doubt that something was said. People like that are arrogant. They're so willing to crush those beneath them that they say anything."

It was a frightening prospect. "Kakei-san, I really don't want to –"

"I know. Kudou-kun, I know."

"I wish he'd get better, Kakei-san. It's not supposed to be like this."

"It isn't," the other male agreed, looking down at the boy in between them. "It isn't. Then again, this is why Green Drugstore is here. I'll protect you boys if I have to. This is your safe haven, and Saiga knows just as well as I that we'll do anything to shield you from harm. No one's going to hurt you or Rikuo as long as we're alive. That's _our_ promise."

"It's harder when he disappears, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course it is. But as long as we know where you are and we can do something about it, you'll hear from us. Blood calls to blood, and we've been that for a year already, Kudou-kun."

He knew that much. It was the one consolation he relied on since Rikuo was found lying half-dead in the snow. "Why does he hurt himself, Kakei-san? It's almost like he's punishing himself."

"He blames himself. He thinks he could've stopped everything from happening."

"Toshiya?"

"Especially Toshiya. A strong boy like him doesn't get broken like that – should be able to fight back. If he'd gotten out earlier, he wouldn't have gone to the hospital. It'll hurt whatever's left of his pride to let others know that another man raped him. It's hard enough for women to be taken seriously in Japan, let alone a man. He'll never live it down if word got out."

"But it's not his fault!"

"You weren't there, Kudou-kun," Kakei said, eerily echoing Rikuo's words. It chilled him to hear it. "Unless you've been exposed to his torture, gone through what he has, you won't know what's going through his head. It's our job to gently guide him away from that."

_I'll do just that_, he vowed. "Kakei-san, tell Saiga-san that there's another name. There's a man named Eichiro who looked after Rikuo."

"I'll do that, Kudou-kun. Seeing as he's been losing sleep recently, I'll go tell him right now."

* * *

Rummaging through their refrigerator had never been more urgent a mission. There was a carton of expired milk – unceremoniously drained and dumped – plus small juice boxes of grape, guava, sugarcane, and strawberry. He also found, buried in the back, a small bag of rock candy, colored translucent yellow. Several bars of chocolate remained frozen in the freezer; along with the stash of chocolate milk he discovered hiding behind an out-of-season pineapple. 

Right. He'd forgotten that Rikuo had a girlish fascination for chocolate. That had been quite the eye-opening experience, even if it ended with him blushing because he licked chocolate off Rikuo's fingers. He couldn't do that – not that he would – with the way Rikuo behaved now.

Casting indecision aside – why did there have to be so many goddamn flavors – he picked a carton of guava juice and took the rock candy with him. It wasn't exactly food but Rikuo was too skinny and anything that would give the other boy energy and a fuller stomach would help. How long had it been since those scrambled eggs? If it wasn't for Rikuo accepting water, Kazahaya would be sticking incense into plotted ground by now. It was fortunate that Rikuo only fainted and nothing worse.

There were worse things than fainting and worse things than death.

He moved the curtain aside and placed his offerings on the floor. The afternoon sun was cold and bright outside their apartment, but the room remained dusky. A chill wind still moved about, blowing drafts from underneath the boarded windows. Rikuo's shirt plastered to his body, the blood long since dried black. His hand lay limply in his lap, where Kakei-san placed it before he'd left, and his face was blank.

Kazahaya gazed at it, mildly perturbed.

They were both eighteen, he reminded himself sharply. He didn't look it – that, he knew and grudgingly accepted – but Rikuo should've looked it. He didn't. There was a vulnerability that shouldn't have been there. All of the aggressiveness, the masculinity that Rikuo exuded that gave him a hard mouth, a stern brow, serious eyes, and a forward jut of his chin that meant business or "leave-me-the-hell-alone" was gone. True, he was unconscious; yet, he saw it when Rikuo was awake as well. That bastard Toshiya and his men had all but beaten those plain out of Rikuo, for attitudes like that weren't tolerated. Rikuo had been strong when he first came across his would-be captors. He'd killed Iwakare, bitten and punched Toshiya, and dared to ask the same prick about Tsukiko. His captors returned the favor through blood and glass, through names and blows, through coercion and threats, and through physical and mental anguish.

He was eighteen. Kazahaya smoothed back damp hair, sticky with blood. So was Rikuo, and he'd missed his birthday. His eighteenth year started with bloodshed – a memorable day for all the tragically wrong reasons.

It was a tragedy that continued, because Rikuo couldn't forget.

Toshiya, Eichiro, Iwakare, Yoshiro, and Tsukiko. Those weren't the only names. Kazahaya knew there were more. Toshiya had "friends" and he wondered, his gut wrenching in disgust, how many more names he'll have to add onto his list. He wished that they didn't go beyond counting his fingers, because he'll get sick. Kakei-san's request churned his stomach, simply because he didn't want to see more. Toshiya was bad enough, and he wasn't even the victim. Thinking about seeing how many more raped Rikuo was enough for him to hurl his juice.

He could wait.

Toshiya could wait, for all the good it did his sanity.

Kazahaya sighed. Why did it have to be so damn hard for all of them?

"Kazahaya…" He watched, dropping his hand, as Rikuo blearily blinked. The high planes of his face were sunken, couching a pair of fatigued but beautiful eyes. The skin clung to his cheekbones, as if trying to maintain a semblance of form. "Did you…see anything?"

He shook his head, relieved that was his answer.

"I'm tired," Rikuo mouthed, gaze flickering over to the nightstand. "What time is it?"

"It's noon or a little after," he said, bracing himself for an explosion. "We did get up early, after all. We're probably going to sleep earlier tonight, too."

Surprisingly, Rikuo's face fell. "Sorry."

It would've halted him in his tracks, if he wasn't intent on replying back. "It's not your fault. You needed to know." Yeah, figuring out Rikuo was going to be something. His friend was unpredictable, switching from terror to guilt to shame at the snap of a finger. Digging through his memories was a mixed bag, considering he never knew what Rikuo thought at the moment. He could easily draw Tsukiko, Toshiya, Eichiro, or Yoshiro like some demented mental raffle.

It was good that Kakei-san gave him some aspirin.

"I brought some juice and rock candy. You're hungry and thirsty. That's why you're so tired." Stabbing the plastic straw through the foil covering, he proffered forth the juice box. "It's not going to bite you, Rikuo. You need something more than water, or you're just going to faint again."

"I'm not sure…"

"Not sure of what?"

"I'm not sure I can keep it down."

"Good thing I didn't decide to give you applesauce or oatmeal." He ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. "It's only guava juice. Take your time. If you get through it, that'll be good enough. What did they feed you there, anyway?"

Something inexplicable burned in those mossy depths. "Kazahaya, don't."

Whoa, okay. He knew when to retreat. "Come on, Rikuo. I can't help you if you don't take what I'm offering."

Rikuo stared back at him, paling. He didn't mean for the words to hurt. "Why are you helping me? Haven't I told you –"

"Because I'm stupid, okay?" Rikuo's former words used in a situation he'd never thought possible. "Because I'm foolish enough to believe that you can recover – that you aren't what those bastards told you you are. Because I don't want to see you like this. Rikuo, it should've been me. I'm sorry that it isn't, but that doesn't mean I'm going to watch you die. I'm not going to let you die, Rikuo. Is that enough for you?"

Rikuo's answering smile was shaky. It never reached his eyes. "Kazahaya, you sound…" A shudder racked his frame, jostling sharp angles to the point where Kazahaya feared his skin would break. "You sound like me…before."

Oh gods, that was unexpected.

"Rikuo?"

The other male trembled, staring down at his hand as if he'd only noticed the bandages for the first time. Goosebumps prickled Kazahaya's skin, running a shiver down his spine. A headache might not be contagious but this was. "You're turning into what I used to be."

"What? Arrogant, obnoxious, silent, and grumpy?"

"No," Rikuo said, and anyone could've heard the tears in that desolate voice. "It's what I would've…it's what I would've said to you if…if you were the one in trouble."

Oh no. He was going to cry.

He was _not_ going to cry.

"If that's what you would've said to me, why can't you understand where I'm coming from?"

"Kazahaya," the younger psychic said, almost inaudibly, "you don't understand me. Why do you think I'll understand you?"

Shit. "I would if you didn't close yourself off to us before."

"I couldn't trust anyone."

So this was the crux of the matter. He'd thought the issue resolved. "Rikuo," he stated, hearing his own voice grow strong, "do _you_ trust me?"

"I…" There was so much fear here. "I would…but…I'm so afraid."

"What are you afraid of? I'm not going to betray you or hurt you. No one's wishing you anything but a good recovery. Saiga-san's trying to figure out who hurt you, and Kakei-san keeps dropping off stuff to help us out. What are you scared of?"

"What if I never heal, Kazahaya? What if I never get better?" Rikuo was going to cry; he could tell. "I've told you – I've lost everything. I can't redeem any of it. What if despite all your efforts, it'll just be a waste of time?"

Ouch. _This_ was the real issue here. This was Rikuo's crossroads and he had to meet him there and bring him out. Easier said than done. Why did it have to be so damn hard? "Why are you thinking like that? Look, Rikuo. I'm not as smart as you and all but I'm not that dense, either." It all depended on the situation, he thought. There were some occasions when he was incredibly dense – stupid book with the fig tree and the lady and all. "Even if you don't get better, I'll be with you. Is that enough trust? I'm willing to go very far."

"You've come a long way."

Rikuo was definitely close to crying. "I had to. It's not easy but I had to." He tapped Rikuo's hand; watched as the boy jerked, startled. "Rikuo, listen to me. I won't leave you. So don't worry about what could happen."

"I can't."

"You can. And you can start by drinking some juice. Come on – it's not going to be cold if you leave it like that. I even took all of the trouble to decide which flavor to give you. Do you know how many flavors we had stocked inside the fridge?"

"How many?"

Well, this was positive. "Rikuo, I don't know which one of us picked up the juice but we've got guava, sugarcane, strawberry, and grape in there. Sugarcane isn't even a juice – what am I saying? Then, I go and find some pineapple, your chocolate, some rotten milk, and this rock candy I'm nearly sitting on. I wish we had some bacon, but I ate all of that last week."

He was blabbering. Kazahaya knew he sounded like a moron but he was willing to be idiotic for once if it meant helping Rikuo out. "I already had some grape juice and it tasted good but I'm still hungry. I wish I had breakfast before I came up here to check out the apartment with you. Do you smell the air? It's still cold outside but the sun's warming it up. I hope spring gets here fast enough so I can see the flowers bloom."

_Kei always did love flowers._ She was one element from his past that he could never escape.

Rikuo didn't smile – couldn't smile without the pain bruising it. Yet, when the dark-haired, melancholy-eyed boy reached for the juice box, Kazahaya smiled. Rikuo wasn't kidding when he said it was hard to keep down, for the older psychic found himself running ragged to the bathroom to bring back paper towels. He questioned just how much of the juice found its way down Rikuo's throat and how much of it ended up on the floor. He needed to scrub it well afterwards, and inwardly, he groaned at the extra task.

Still, it was worth it to see that Rikuo was giving himself a chance.

"It…" The younger man dropped the box, burying his face into his arm. "It tastes so good."

Kazahaya left then, picking the dirty rags off the floor. Rikuo needed his privacy, and after what Kakei-san told him about Rikuo's changed perception, he thought it best to leave him to his tears. He heard the sound of bitter sobbing, of the harsh gasps in between, and bit his lip to keep himself from weeping. Dumping the paper towels into the trash, he turned around and strode back to the curtain, only to hesitate.

Rikuo never cried around him in the past, if he did. He had no right to be here now, when the anguish was so palpable. He'd lost his aggression and much of his masculinity; by leaving, Kazahaya could give a bit back to him. There were some areas where he needed to yield, too. If he wanted their connection to be mutual, he'll need to start understanding.

That left him with nothing to do.

Or did it?

The brown-haired boy flicked some strands away from his eyes, which smarted with unshed tears, and put on his shoes. He needed to talk to Saiga-san about shoving his bed into Rikuo's room, which he couldn't manage alone. The extra chore would give the older man a headache but he always had aspirin. If _he_ tried to do it, he'll throw his back out or klutz into the worst imaginable scrapes ever.

He was a moron sometimes but even morons learned from their mistakes.

Besides, he couldn't leave Rikuo alone.


	11. Sludged Ash

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Note: A change of tense that felt right and warnings about some rather uncomfortable descriptions when it comes to Rikuo's ordeal (Squick factor). It's only going to get darker from here._

**CHAPTER 11**

Saiga-san surprises him one night, his expressionless face staring down at him when Kazahaya opens the door. Before he can ask "why", the man beats him to it. "Come downstairs and meet me in the store. Kakei's asleep but we need to talk." The other's brow furrows darkly. "Make sure you lock the door behind you. It'll take a while."

Feeling strange, Kazahaya pulls his jacket off the chair, slips into it, and follows the towering monolith down the steps. His boss's partner blends well into the shadows but he can hear each footfall, hard and heavy as they descend. Rounding the corner, they reach the roller door that partially obscures the storefront and Saiga-san lifts it just enough so that both of them duck inside. Light from the street lamps outside eerily bring the highlights of glass jars, aluminum cans, and plastic bins to a dull shine. What was welcome and warm in the day suddenly appears alien, as if Green Drugstore underwent a shady transformation.

He shivers.

"Here's why I needed to talk to you, kid," the older man says, removing a small envelope from his coat pocket. It's brown and enclosed with thread, as if the documents inside were classified or official. He takes it, aware of the consternation churning his gut. "I don't think we're going to be able to keep Rikuo's ordeal a secret. It's already circulating in the criminal underworld, unfortunately."

Biting his lip, he unravels the thread and dumps the contents out onto the nearest plexiglass table. Glossy paper reflects the dim light and as his eyes adjust, he sees color and shapes. Baffled, he reaches for the nearest portable lamp and flicks it on. Saiga-san's hand clamps down on his shoulder even as his fingers cover his mouth, desperately holding back his scream. The colors are no longer colors and the shapes are no longer shapes but agony and cruelty is frozen in each frame and the photographs are like spoils of war.

"How?" he asks, barely able to past the tight lump in his throat.

"Standard procedure for blackmail, I should think," Saiga answers, his tone dry, "and a good way to make sure that everyone knows what was done to him and what he looks like. I'm afraid, though, that photographs aren't the end of it. I wouldn't put it beyond them to videotape it so that Rikuo has no way of fighting back. This, you understand, makes his recovery harder. It also makes it harder for us to stay here, to hide him."

He doesn't say anything because he can't. Tears prick his eyes as he stares at the atrocities caught on paper, stunned by the brazenness of the release. Rikuo unconscious in one, his wrists bound across his back. Another one is too horrifying for him to look at for long, but the silent scream contorting the younger psychic's face lingers, twisted and broken. There are men in the pictures – other men, older and bigger – and he can't see their faces. He picks up one, trembling as he does, and hopes, even though he feels ill, that a memory will come to him. He needs to know their faces, their features in order to match names to a person.

Nothing happens. Perhaps, he shouldn't have expected it.

Rikuo's eyes are shut in the picture, cruelly remembered on ink and paper as surely as the faceless man on top of him. His mouth is open, screaming and soundless and Kazahaya drops the photograph back into the stack, unable to look at it any further. His stomach wrenches, bringing up bile, and the wastebasket is shoved into his arms just as he loses his dinner. Saiga-san hands him paper towels to wipe his chin and a cup of water to rinse his mouth, and he does so, shaken by what he's seen. "Rikuo," he gasps, tears streaming down his face. "How? How is he…?"

"They're one step ahead of us by doing this." Saiga picks the discarded glossies, indiscriminately shuffles them, and slides them back into the envelope; his expression flat. "They've effectively caught him in a bind. They're making sure that if the same happens to him, and he escapes, that these photographs will be widely distributed to corrupt police and authorities. He'll have nowhere to run, and no one to help him. Even more unfortunate is that these pictures will find their way into pornographers' hands, making him an easy target."

Kazahaya lets that comment slide, not wanting it clarified. He stares at the table, as if the pictures are still there, tainted and vile. Swallowing hard, the realization hits him even as his mind protests. "Saiga-san, how many men were in those pictures?"

"It varies. They could all be the same or different. It's hard to tell when they've censored the faces. Whatever Toshiya and his men are, they're professionals. They know how to cover their tracks. This leak was deliberate; with their clout, they can pull all the strings to find him and we would be none the wiser."

"Rikuo, he…"

"It's only been a week since he's taken food, isn't it?" The man standing beside him sighs. "With this out in the open, he'll have more to worry about than that. I don't think these pictures even show half of what was inflicted upon him."

Not even half? How could that not be all of what he saw, spread upon the plexiglass – image after image of Rikuo bound, kicked, unconscious, pushed, shoved, bleeding, and broken? Of men, naked and clothed, bodies pressed to Rikuo's while in the pictures, the younger man screamed in helpless anguish? Of the terrible poses they put him in, or the sickening fact that while the bastards' faces were blurred, many bloody details weren't? Or that Rikuo was so torn apart by them that they had to show it, like a disgusting calling card?

He shudders. He couldn't believe that wasn't even half. He doesn't want to believe it. "Saiga-san, what are we going to do? If he knows about this –"

"I think he'll know, kid. All of these were taken during his torture. He'd know, to some extent, what they'll do with it. There's word that they want to apprehend him because his abilities have run amuck. The psychic underworld is alert to that because he poses a threat. It's a clever cover-up for the fact that Toshiya and his low-lifes simply want a rape toy and that to them, Rikuo's theirs. I found it tonight while tracking down some of those names. Toshiya's group is all behind it."

"How…?" His voice shakes, unbearably so. "How are we to protect him from this?"

"I don't think we can, besides burning these and hoping that no one throws them in his face. I do know that this organization is funded by someone else. Making all of these photographs and possibly videotapes for blackmail costs money. There's someone else pulling all of the strings behind them, and whoever they are, they have no qualms about a boy being nearly beaten and raped to death. We have to be careful. I'm letting you know first so that you'll be more vigilant around Rikuo."

"Kakei-san will know about this?"

The dark shades elevate a bit, so that he could see shadows beneath the frames. "He'll probably have the same reaction as you, if not a bit tougher. The boss might be able to stomach these but I'm not sure." Saiga's tone inflects, inward and quieter. "I couldn't, to be honest."

It comforts him somewhat to know that the older, taller male shared his feelings. Switching the lamp off, letting the eerie darkness fall upon them, Kazahaya crosses his arms and focuses on the idly standing mop and bucket tucked behind the latest shipments. He looks over the multiple jars, the gleaming ceramic of certain gift boxes, the plastic bottles of lotion and moisturizers, and turns to gaze out at the view beyond the roller door. The lights are yellow and harsh, breaking the darkness, and the street is empty of people, cars, and animals. It is silent and in that silence, Rikuo's screams careen into his thoughts, indelibly merged with the sight of his torn body writhing beneath other bodies, only to be ripped and violated all over again until blood is on the floor and his friend lays a pale skeleton.

"No," he says, still feeling odd and detached. "No, I'm sure most people can't."

He thinks back to those pictures, to those two-dozen photographs colored with the darkest of brutality and pain, and begins to catalogue what he can. He does it for Rikuo, he firmly tells himself, in spite of the shivers. His memory is good, even if his logic comes slow. In one of them, there were sixteen legs, precisely eight pairs, and eight men besides the one torturing Rikuo. In another one, he sees the torsos of five men but like Saiga-san said, he couldn't figure out if they were a separate group or Toshiya's original lackeys. If Toshiya wasn't in those pictures, his sum would round to ten men total responsible for assaulting Rikuo.

Either way, the number had to be higher.

Nausea sweeps over him but he refuses the wastebasket this time. The air is sharp and cold and he breathes it in, clearing out his lungs. His head throbs, the back of his eye feels heavy and he reaches into his pocket for the bottle of aspirin. Saiga-san gratefully takes the two he offers him and they both down it without a sound. Towards the back where the break room is, he hears the slight rustling of sheets. He wonders what Kakei-san would say or do when the pictures are laid before him; at how the man who mothered them would respond when Rikuo's rape was evident before his eyes.

In the news, he's heard of mothers hunting down their child's abuser. He's heard of the time they've served for murder. He knows, without a doubt, that Kakei-san would kill Toshiya and anyone else who's bludgeoned, starved, and forced themselves on Rikuo. Saiga-san wouldn't be any different. For Rikuo to have a chance – any chance at all of recovering – the bastard Toshiya and his men had to die.

It was only appropriate, even if death was too good for them.

"Saiga-san, you said something about hiding him?"

The other man shifts. "It'll be difficult to, now that they know his face. We need another safe haven, just in case their search takes them here. Rikuo also left a psychic signature, which can be traceable if anyone noticed. An overflow of power like that doesn't escape the psychic underworld."

"I've never heard you talk so much before," Kazahaya blurts out, craning his neck to look the man full in the shades. "At least not so seriously and without joking."

"Consider me the informant. Besides," Saiga replies, his voice without nuance, "it's not a good time to play those tricks or say those jokes. If invading your personal space was enough to get you agitated, you can imagine the effect it'll have on Rikuo. The jokes aren't appropriate, not after what he's suffered. You've noticed, haven't you, how little he speaks?"

"He told me some things. I thought he told me everything that Toshiya and they did to him, but…" Blood, ropes, restraints, pain in inexplicable forms, hands on wrists and ankles, and bodies ravaging the younger psychic's, breaking him as readily as his telekinesis spilled out, violent and uncontrolled. It wasn't even half of the torture. "I think he just wants to forget."

"They won't let him. Not with these circulating around."

"What should we do?"

"Pack a bag as soon as you can, just in case I get word of their search coming here. Kakei and I will find ways to defuse this situation around here without showing our hand. But if I knock on your door and tell you we must go, grab your bag, help Rikuo, and leave. This is one place we can't afford to let them find, especially with us in it."

"This isn't about to end, is it?" he asks fearfully. "It's more than just Rikuo."

"The only thing I know is that they want him back. I'm not sure how he got involved with them or how Tsukiko's involved in all this. I don't know why the people funding them are looking the other way or hell-bent on pursuing a young man they nearly killed. There's something that he's not able or willing to tell us; something that we can't push him to tell us, and something that this organization knows that'll be troublesome for us. The only thing we can do is stay low and watch. You, boy, keep your eyes on Rikuo at all times. You never know with these people."

"You don't think they'll kidnap him, do you?"

"Who's to say they didn't drag him off the streets? He's not exactly a stranger in the underworld, criminal or psychic. The worst they can do if he's unguarded is to rape and murder him in his bed, where you think he's safe. It's not the first time crimes like that have happened, and they have a better reason than most to ensure that he's dead."

"Rikuo's not sure if he's going to get better."

"If he knows about what the organization on Toshiya's half has done, he'll truly believe that. You realize, don't you, that he might stop talking to you altogether once he knows? They've sealed his lips for good, barred any means of aid he might get, and shamed him all at once by sending these photographs out. He might regress, might want nothing to do with you, and refuse to let you help him. The nightmares might get worse and we'll all be back to day one."

"I've already promised him I'll be with him no matter what."

"Let's hope my hypothesis stays one and isn't tested." The sarcasm in Saiga-san's tone is thick, but it's more internal than directed at him. The black shape that is their informant and his boss's right-hand man moves, circling around the plexiglass table; one hand is secured in his pocket. Kazahaya knows the packet of pictures is in there, poisonous to Rikuo's recovery and utterly repugnant to him. He doesn't understand why they were ever taken – for blackmail, according to Saiga-san – when all of the contents reeked of perversion.

"You have your key, right?"

Fumbling in his pocket, he feels the cool press of metal against his fingertips and nods. "Are you going to sleep, Saiga-san?"

"I don't know," he hears before the other man shuffles away toward the back. "Can you sleep, knowing that these are out there?"

A good question. His answer mirrors the one spoken beforehand. "I don't know."

"Well, you need to be up there with him and I'll break the bad news to the boss before you two are awake. If you hear any disturbance in the morning, it's probably him breaking something or cursing murder on their heads. Hopefully, you'll get some rest."

"I hope so."

"Good night, kid." Black coalesces with black and only the crisp sounds of Saiga's footfalls remind him that the man once stood next to him. He stands there for a minute, still remotely aware of how awkward the night was. Then, because he did belong upstairs with Rikuo – with the person he saw so viciously manhandled in those stills – and there was nowhere else to go, his footsteps turn towards home and outside.

The street is still silent, with a deadly calm that's tangible, as if Saiga-san's news pricks his skin with paranoia. The mantra was true: for every step one takes, sometimes one is forced to go two steps back. This wasn't two steps back, though. This was a shove, sprawling everything backwards and ruining whatever progress they've made. His breath condenses in the winter wind and he's angry. Angry that Rikuo's rape and torture was shown so explicitly, as if the younger man was only good for that. Angry that the men in the pictures did such things to his roommate, so that there were still scars and memories that didn't fade. Angry that Toshiya used such a tactic to close off all options to Rikuo. Angry that if they found him that Rikuo would be subjected to all of that again and possibly die from the wounds he received.

Kazahaya is also sad. Sad that Rikuo's life fell so far down that recovery was difficult. Sad that Rikuo's face was so twisted in the photographs that he was nearly unrecognizable. Sad that the abuse was that violent and that all of the blood was his friend's. Sad that despite what the pictures showed, Rikuo did fight back but couldn't win. Sad that the younger man's ordeal – his suffering, his body, his rights – were coldly given to criminals, who probably liked seeing such things. Sad that if Toshiya did find Rikuo again, Rikuo would probably die from the injuries the other man would inflict.

He's so upset and so depressed – his emotions so conflicted – by what he saw that prudishness never enters his mind. What the images revealed provoked horror rather than embarrassment or a flippant knee-jerk reaction. It's his second time and he realizes that he only blushes whenever the innuendo strikes home with him. Rikuo's nakedness or the bile-inducing images does the reverse, because he knows the circumstances behind them. There, his childish responses aren't appropriate; ultimately, because violence was what led them to all of this.

He's growing up fast. He has to, for Rikuo's sake.

It's why when he opens the door, closes it, and kicks off his shoes that he heads straight for their shared room. It's why when Rikuo cries out in his sleep, Tsukiko's name hanging in the air, that he sits on his bed and pays attention. It's also why when the other male screams that he goes over and holds his hand, waiting for the nightmare to pass. The screams remind him too much of savagery and suffering, of violation and denied consent, of Toshiya's leering face in Rikuo's own, and of how that first incident bloodied Rikuo's life and stained the gloss of those pictures with shame and red.

It's also why he doesn't get any sleep, for Rikuo's world is one agonizingly terrible chain of events that change from morning to night, from minute to minute, from hour to hour, and the moans and screams never stop. He sits there, waiting, and when Rikuo finally falls unconscious, the boy's hair is soaked with sweat. Kazahaya falls backward onto his own bed, still clothed, and tries to doze off.

He can't because Rikuo's still in his mind trapped in celluloid. Rikuo's enemies form walls and the steel walls enclose him, and both sets of walls – flesh and metal – bar him from escape. There are other walls, too but these walls crush Rikuo and forcibly break him until Rikuo's walls are down. It's only when Rikuo is helpless that the human wall moves, so that others wither away his defenses. The steel walls don't move; mockingly so, even when blood smears on them and the walls of flesh watch as a seventeen-year-old boy collapses, green eyes glassy with pain.

Rikuo's hair is seized and as the walls watch, gray and cold, Rikuo bleeds. On the glossy paper, there's no sound but the walls might've been deaf. Rikuo's screams are ignored and his friend is taken while the room and the people stand immobile. Knowing what kinds of men they are, he thinks they smile and not kindly. Rikuo is used and abandoned, vulnerable in that circle of assailants, and his face is wet with tears. In the photographs, he's scarred and losing muscle; his arms and legs barely support him by the looks of it, and no one cares.

Kazahaya closes his eyes, wanting to sleep but he can't.

No one cares and Rikuo, not yet eighteen, is left to fend for himself but has no strength left. The human wall breaks again and the dark-haired boy is pinned down by a wall of flesh. The attack is longer this time, more violent and Rikuo's fingers flail bloodlessly as his wrists go numb. It's a single incident, strung together by many images and it's the only conclusion he can draw. Rikuo's facing his assailant but his eyes are shut and he's screaming again. The sound becomes nothing, and he can't hear it when stuck in pulp, binder, and gloss. The walls of steel stare back gray and in the pictures, Rikuo's badly hurt and the man continues injuring him. It's not a memory he'll like to experience because it's always worse when emotions are involved.

He rolls over on his left side, scrunching his eyes closed but sleep evades him. Saiga-san's words spin in his head and the images tumble out, grotesque in all their graphic detail.

There's blood and there's more blood as Rikuo's struggle becomes futile, as his fingers slacken and fall. It disturbs him that the photographer caught that detail, as well as the others. The faceless man is callous to Rikuo's agony, to the way how Rikuo's nearly insensible. A sheathed knife hangs off the man's belt – an oddity, that. When the incident closes with the last shot, Rikuo's lying spread-eagled, covered in blood; his head lolls to the side and his fingers flatten out.

Kazahaya punches his pillow, pulls it over his head, and damns the brown envelope.

Rikuo tries to crawl away in another picture but a kick intercepts him and slams straight into his gut. The young man curls, hands clutching his stomach. He doesn't know if this violence takes place before or after the vicious rape but Rikuo's incapable of standing. There's red all over the floor and Rikuo's legs are slick with it. Another man with jeans kicks him right in the backside and Rikuo buckles weakly, retching.

It isn't the first or last of the pictures that proudly, if not exploitatively, show how ill-treated the young captive is. He can't forget many of them; it's almost like if they're burned into his mind, similar to when he receives a memory from his empathy. He still hasn't forgotten Rikuo's encounter with Toshiya, or the way how the glass shards ripped across Rikuo's back. Yoshiro is strangely absent from most of this and he wonders, while furious at his mind's inability to shut down and sleep, where the man went.

Finally calling it quits, he rolls over, plants his feet on the floor, and rakes his fingers through his matted hair. That's when he hears a bump below him, like sound falling into a well, and a distant clank confirms his guess. Kakei-san had been shown the contents of the envelope and was obviously raging in a mood that would well suit his alter ego. He listens for a while, tracks the bang of something heavy against the wall, and wonders how Saiga-san is holding up.

Both of them, undoubtedly, didn't get any sleep.

Kazahaya shakes his head – the damn images don't leave – glances once at Rikuo, who's mercifully unaware and hauls his ass over to the closet. Grabbing a relatively huge travel bag, he starts throwing socks, underwear, shirts, pants, and anything he thinks is useful into it. Better to prepare now when he has nothing else to do than to wait until he's too tired to think and the warning's upon them. Slamming the bag down, he throws a few towels in for good measure. He almost wants a knife to go with it.

Mainly, he wants Toshiya dead.


	12. Still Platinum

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 12**

There were some good days and there were some bad days, and this was one of them. "Kakei-san said that you only have two weeks left," he mentioned, sitting down on his bed. "We can remove the sling and splints, then." Rikuo murmurs something but it's not for him to hear and the boy curls on the comforter, focus directed inward. His shirt is green, matching the hue of his eyes, and the sleeves are rolled down to cover the scars. The stone-washed jeans hang off his hips and are entirely too big for him, but his roommate doesn't seem to mind. The bowl of applesauce he brought with him is untouched, lying abandoned on the nightstand.

"Rikuo, does it still hurt?"

The other boy barely nods; barely moves. Kazahaya sighed. Only last night did Saiga-san carry Rikuo back to his bed, placing the other psychic gently down before smoothing back his hair. Rikuo hadn't responded to that touch, eerily passive and when Saiga-san told him to be patient; he realized just how bad it was. He thought he understood some semblance of the abuse after being exposed to those photographs but the episode was too bizarre. It left Rikuo pale and drained, in immeasurable pain – imagined or real – and silent.

"Rikuo," he managed to say, fiddling with his fingers, "no one's here to hurt you."

The younger man faintly smiles but it's like all the others and his eyes are dead. Kazahaya wants nothing more than to touch him; yet, he holds back. He's not sure if the re-experienced trauma was the same as the previous one, namely because of how awkward the situation was. What had started out with Rikuo screaming ended with intervals of silence and whimpers; and several times, he heard the words "I didn't" squeeze out of the boy's throat. He's not sure if the perpetrator is Yoshiro or Toshiya, but it's nothing like the repulsive acts in the pictures.

Still, Rikuo's passivity towards the end of that episode bothered him. Perhaps that was due in part to a few of those pictures. Saiga-san had already thoroughly destroyed them – ripped, shredded, and burned them as Kakei-san and he watched, but the damage was done. It was valuable information in piecing his clues together; yet, the cost to his mentality and the bile it induced wasn't much of a proper payoff. It only left him knowing that the psychic organization was on the move, that many were responsible for Rikuo's physical condition, and that Toshiya and his group were utterly sick in the head.

"No." The other boy said, not looking at him. "But they will."

It's another statement of defeat. He can kind of understand why. The photographs showed the level of pain the others dealt him; they also showed, terribly, how Rikuo dealt with it when the attacks got out of hand, resulting in massive injuries. Some of the assailants were unspeakably brutal and Rikuo was glutted upon so sadistically that Kazahaya noticed, thinking back, at how he shut down in those images. Rikuo convulses in one, screaming; Rikuo staring emptily ahead, letting the other take him; Rikuo, unable to fight back, closing his eyes and biting his lip bloody. It's the only way Rikuo learned to survive in those circumstances, in order to live another day.

He wonders, though, how much that survival cost Rikuo. To see his rapists daily, to be beaten within an inch of his life, to be passed around from man to man, and to know that escape was only in his head and never a possibility. To force himself to shut down, to zone out, just so that time flies and he doesn't know how long each torture session takes. To allow the others to touch him, mangle him, and ruin him in multiple ways just so that the violence won't kill him. He wonders what goes through Rikuo's mind when the door opens, when the footsteps hit the floor, when someone grabs him and assaults him; and when he can't run and he can't fight, and in his world of unremitting agony, he knows tomorrow and the day after and the day after that brings the same.

Kazahaya thinks about the pictures and the awful truths they bring. He gazes at the still form lying atop the bed, fingers wrapped around the bedspread, and meets Rikuo's shallow stare head on. He sees a young man on the brink of adulthood, hurting and silent and then sees in his mind's eye the same youth, hurting and silent because it's the only way to endure. He compares the two and there's no difference. Enduring the aftermath seems to be just as difficult, if not more so. The physical pain might be gone but the emotional ones exist as readily as his scars.

He moves from his bed over to where Rikuo's lying, remote and haunted, and takes his hand into his own. It's commonplace for him to do that now; it's also the only real gesture that Rikuo allows him to make. Rikuo's hand is cold, his grip lax, and oddly, it feels like as if Rikuo's letting him hold him; letting him do whatever he wants to him. But he's not Toshiya and he's not one of the captors who destroyed him, body and soul, and he releases him because he's starting to feel uncomfortable.

The cost, he decides, was everything that made Rikuo "Rikuo".

A series of images, like soiled pearls on a rotting thread, invade his mind. It's the same ones from three nights ago. He wonders what Rikuo's thinking when he shuts down, when he gives in not because he wants to but because he has to, when he sees the faces of his attackers, when he watches listlessly his own rape, and when he's finally alone, wounded so grievously that he's crippled, crying silent tears. He wonders if that's what truly shattered him; if the surrender of everything he was – strength, ego, will – and seeing how he was undone undid all his limited choices.

Rikuo had told him Eichiro cared; yet, Eichiro was handicapped in assisting him.

So then, Rikuo had to submit, second after second, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, and week after week. Rikuo had been missing for about a month – around five weeks – and that was a calculable amount of time and a lot of it. It's hard to believe – to fathom – how Rikuo lived through it all. Out of 840 hours, which was equivalent to 50,400 minutes and seconds, how much of that time was spent with him unwillingly, passively letting the others use him? How much of that time did he get to sleep or stay unconscious? And how much of that time was turned against him through punches and kicks, restraints and arm-twisting, and savagely enforced rapes when he resisted?

The troubling question was how much of that remaining time did Rikuo spend in suicidal thoughts, through living in utter fear, and hoping that the next time a beating occurred that it would be his last? Yoshiro and his men were nearly non-entities, factoring little in the mess of his fellow psychic's flashbacks and nightmares. Another frightening question arose, so dark and sick that he could barely shape it. How much of that time did _Toshiya_ spend alone with Rikuo, and if he did, what exactly happened within the span of those total hours?

It didn't bear thinking upon.

His hair was in his eyes and Kazahaya swept it aside, attempting to mask his thoughts. It wouldn't do for Rikuo to read the expression on his face and _know_ that he knew too much. The younger man's gaze was intensely green, murky verdigris, detached and fixed, only interrupted by involuntary blinks that obscured irises and pupils. He hadn't said a word since the last sentence had dissipated in silence.

"No," Kazahaya said, linking response to response and bridging the stillness, "they won't."

Rikuo blinks beside him, shifting a moss-colored sleeve. It's the first real reaction he's gotten out of him, surprisingly enough, and he didn't even say much. "Kazahaya?"

"Yeah?"

"What…" the other male said, hesitantly; voice resonating fear. "What would you say if someone accused you of something you didn't do?"

The question floors him and while it's not the most Rikuo's ever said, he has a gut feeling that it leads into the "why" of Rikuo's latest episode. "I'd say that I didn't do anything."

"What if they don't believe you?"

Oh man, this was leading somewhere. He didn't understand to what but that question was loaded if he ever knew one. Time to tread on uneasy ground – to walk the thin line. "Why wouldn't they believe you? I don't know many people that'd disbelieve if you're honest."

"They might, if they're convinced you're lying."

Something clicks unnervingly in his mind, weaving a rope out of his many strands of conjectures and thoughts. He doesn't enjoy the sensation it creates in him. He can't put his finger on it but something's wrong. Perhaps it's the implication the statement leaves behind. Either way, Kazahaya's sure that this is all the beginning of an incident that went horribly awry. So he pounces on the first notion that comes to mind, throwing a loose card into the small pile of possibilities. "Rikuo, it sounds like you've been interrogated."

Jade tightens and black dilates, widening those eyes, and he knows he's correct. The knowledge is bitter, clenching his heart. "Yes," Rikuo replies softly, his tone circumspect. "Yes, I was."

"Who did it to you? Was it Yoshiro and his men?"

Blood drains from Rikuo's face, whitening his complexion. It's a scary thought but he almost wishes he's right again. Somehow, because Yoshiro in the memories seemed less sadistic and more conforming to the rules, he's willing to believe that Rikuo would suffer less. Vice versa Yoshiro with Toshiya and the insanity of how far the latter would go to extract information scares him to the bone. He sincerely hopes that he's correct on his second guess.

Rikuo pauses, looks him in the eye, and everything crashes down. His body language is apparent that he's wrong – that it was Toshiya and his gang doing the questioning. Feeling slightly queasy, he inhales, unable to shove those horrid images out of his mind. Most interrogators used sleep deprivation, water torture, cutting off fingers, or ripping out toenails to harvest answers – gruesome bits of knowledge that he knew, thanks to Kakei-san and Saiga-san's colorful commentary several months back. It's not that he wants that to happen to Rikuo; it's not that he wants him maimed but he knows what tools Toshiya uses.

What Toshiya does is suitable for intensive torture and since the pictures don't lie, it's abundantly clear that what he does to Rikuo does cripple him to the point where he needs to crawl. He can only imagine – vehemently cursing the bastard the whole time – how Toshiya would extract his answers. The process could take a long time, would be maliciously drawn out, and if Rikuo didn't speak or couldn't talk, the injury inflicted would increase in severity. If all his lackeys were behind it, the accumulated pain would be staggering.

Now, he really needs to know.

"Was it Toshiya and his 'friends'?"

Rikuo stares at him, swallows, and doesn't say a word. It's confirmation of the highest degree; suddenly, Kazahaya's apprehensive. Brushing the lint off the comforter, he distracts himself with trivialities and skirts the issues bubbling within his brain. It couldn't have been them, he denies, because nothing adds up to a correct sum when he factors in Rikuo's behavior. The episode itself was strange through and through. None of Rikuo's body language hinted towards sexual assault and the screams did die down into whimpers. He wants to believe that Yoshiro was behind it – that the coldly formal, if not elusive man was in charge of Rikuo's interrogation. Wants to believe it wholeheartedly and can't. Looking at it another way, the figures do add up and the sum of all the signs shown point directly at Toshiya.

He sighs, heavy-hearted and in disbelief. "It was, wasn't it?"

Rikuo's voice drops, deep and barely a whisper. "Yes, it was."

"Why?" It's not an easy question to ask; he dreads the answer. "Why would they do that?"

"I…I don't know." Suddenly, Rikuo's gaze is withdrawn, not directed at him and he knows, with that piercingly dark clarity, that something's dreadfully wrong. He's seen this before – the detachment; the way how Rikuo speaks, as if talking beyond himself; the flatness of his voice, masking pain. Whatever had happened during that interrogation was something Rikuo was distancing himself from. Whatever it was, Rikuo was shutting himself down again, lost in a memory that brought nothing but anguish. "I think…I think it's all a game to him."

"Rikuo," he asks and he's stepping on eggshells here, trying to be delicate with the next question screaming in his mind. "Did they hurt you?"

There's no perceptible sign that Rikuo heard him. He wonders just how bad it was for that to happen. Helpless, unable to do anything but look and talk – not desiring at all to lay his hand on Rikuo at the moment – Kazahaya waited, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs.

When Rikuo does speak, the words are faint. "Yes. Yes, he did."

_He?_ Only he – meaning Toshiya? What the…?

"You mean Toshiya? It was only him? No one else was there?"

"It was just him," the younger psychic barely forces out, the words strained. "He didn't need anyone else to get the answers for him."

"How…?" He leaves the question unasked, unfinished.

Rikuo's still not looking at him and the comforter crushes in his fingers. "You don't want to know." The words are quiet, calmly said but there are tinges of pain and shame behind them. "You don't want to know," Rikuo repeats, as if he didn't hear it the first time. "Kazahaya, I can't."

He only has one last card to throw into the deck. He tosses it carefully, watching Rikuo's expression. "Did he rape you?" Asking that question is enough to churn his upset stomach; the word tastes vile on his tongue. It's not exactly politic; yet, he needs to understand, however scantly, the extent of the interrogation method. He needs to measure it, scale it against everything he currently knows.

It's the only reason why he asks.

He doesn't get an answer. Rikuo doesn't shake his head – nothing. "Don't," the boy said, and that was that. Kazahaya backs off, seeing the end of the line and not wishing to throw himself off the cliff, retreats. It eases Rikuo a little but not by much. The lines of the younger man's body are rigid, taut and near to bursting with tension. His expression's vague, nearly blank and his fingers snag folds of bedspread and comforter, as if holding on for life. When he touches his shoulder, the wasted muscle ripples beneath his fingertips but Rikuo doesn't bat him away.

This was really, really bad.

He knows why Kakei-san and Saiga-san were alarmed by Rikuo's initial passivity shortly after the botched shower and clean-up. This frightens him. There's no definite answer on what Toshiya did to Rikuo but the fact that Rikuo became submissive – removed; almost a stranger – told him that the harm inflicted must've been immense. It couldn't have surpassed the torture in the photos, surely? And if it wasn't rape, what was it?

Reflecting on when the episode occurred, Kazahaya's unsure of what the trigger was that set Rikuo off. It happened in the kitchen – that's the only detail he knows; otherwise, he's in the dark about everything else.

Out of 840 hours – five weeks' worth of time – how much of it was used by Toshiya to mistreat Rikuo? He doesn't even know how long the interrogation took, let alone the method employed to force Rikuo to speak. Even more confusing, what was the questioning about? Why was it even put into practice on a starving, battered, and brutally injured boy? Rikuo said something about it being "all a game" to the man; picking through that, it only reinforces the sadistic tendencies of that low-life bastard.

However, questions weren't asked unless there were reasons for it.

Unless…

He follows that train of thought, blown away by the inkling of truth that he snatches. Questions weren't asked unless there were reasons for it. But that wasn't always true. Unless the reasons were void and null and the questions asked only to gather a response. If there was no real reason for the asking, and it indeed _was_ a game, cruelly played to provoke fear. Throw in physical punishment for questions unanswered or insufficiently covered, and the interrogation isn't an interrogation anymore.

It becomes one sick, twisted game. The questions might not even have proper answers but because the questioner holds control and power, the assailed doesn't know what's right or what's wrong. There's no escape until the game ends, and there's no telling when the light is seen at the end of the tunnel. Depending on the severity of the chastisement, someone might give in simply to lessen the pain, to satisfy the questioner's anger. That easily explains why someone would shut down.

It explains why Rikuo did shut down, now and back then when it all occurred.

He squeezes Rikuo's shoulder gently, letting him know he's still around, and watches as the younger man visibly trembles. He's afraid, he reminds himself, but when one's passive, they suppress that fear. It isn't hard to imagine – because he knows – how Rikuo chews his lip raw so that he won't scream when the torture starts. Or how he allows the others to touch him, to make him something less than human through their acts, while the muscles in his body tense and twitch. Or how he looks into the faces of his attackers while the crime is committed and fights not to buckle at their every movement. He doesn't know how Rikuo reacts when Toshiya's with him – whether or not the pattern is the same.

He only knows that Toshiya left him ruined beyond what the group combined does.

That's a scary thought.

"Rikuo," he said, vocalizing his concern, "can you eat?" The chipped ceramic bowl is blue, filled to the brim with applesauce, and it appears as lonely as the boy lying motionless on the bed. He's just glad that Rikuo's capable of handling something more than juice and water now. Starvation must've been one of the additional cruelties he'd suffered, since regaining all of that muscle would take a while. Little wonder he was defenseless against so many.

"Not now." He sounds so tired that it breaks his heart. "Maybe later."

"Okay," Kazahaya replied, standing to go into the kitchen and grab a spoon. He's hungry too, despite his lunch. It's been a couple hours since noon and staying with Rikuo was becoming his other full-time job. Not that he minds, that is. "Do you want some water?"

Dark lashes flickered as Rikuo's eyes closed. "Yes."

He leaves then, glancing back and notices how Rikuo's right arm swings around to cover his head. He's not sure if the boy's crying or not, but some emotion stirs in him. He can't name it. Padding his way softly into the kitchen, he yanks a cabinet door open, pulls out a plastic jar filled with equally synthetic dinnerware, and chooses a spoon. Plunking the container back, he makes his way for another drawer where the dry snacks are kept. He has his own stash of favorites and he digs a pack of seaweed-wrapped rice crackers out. Only then does he grab a glass, fill it with running tap water – he isn't giving Rikuo anything lukewarm – and juggling the other items in his free hand, sweeps back into the room with a dramatic curtain entrance.

Okay, maybe not. He nearly lost the spoon, after all.

Placing the glass on the nightstand, he sits down on his bed and rips into his snack. It tastes great as usual but he's automatic in how he's eating it. His breath stops in his lungs as Rikuo moves, slowly shifting forward, and reaches a shaky hand out for the glass. Not enough distance has been covered and as Rikuo drags himself towards the nightstand, Kazahaya can hear every wince that passes through his teeth. He wonders how badly it hurts.

After what seems like an agonizing minute, Rikuo's finally close enough and his thumb, index and middle finger wrap around the glass. Through the reflected surface, he can see Rikuo's splinted fingers refracted through liquid. Two weeks isn't long – two weeks isn't long at all. He's simply eager to see Rikuo's hand and arm working again, properly and without the fractures that disabled him. Also, if Rikuo wanted to help out in Green Drugstore – like before his disappearance and subsequent torment – he's sure Kakei-san and Saiga-san wouldn't mind.

He ponders, though, if Rikuo would mind.

After all, getting back to normal wasn't so easy. Rikuo also seemed convinced that recovery was impossible for him; hence, the hellish first few days. Kazahaya thought he understood him initially from the memories; now, he regards those moments as foolish. Two memories were scarcely enough to glean information, let alone the wide cluster of emotions that Rikuo felt. Hell, even seeing those disgusting photographs weren't enough. Rikuo had experienced even more than that.

In a way, he's similar to Rikuo. He's also helpless.

He's helpless in some aspects of giving him the aid and care that he needs – that he deserves. He doesn't know all of the answers and has too many questions. Some of those questions hurt Rikuo more than help him, when he should be reaffirming Rikuo's right to live. It's not that he's not living now; oh yeah, he's breathing and moving and all but something in him still lies dead. His partner was afraid to live in all dimensions of living: returning to normality, expressing his emotions, speaking his mind, claiming who he was and is, and not being chained by five weeks' worth of harsh violence that literally drained his soul dry. The sad thing was, until he gained more knowledge of "why", "how", "where", and "when", Kazahaya sees himself as little more than a friend, trying to console someone he no longer knows.

The glass thuds on the nightstand, splashing water, and he watches as Rikuo's arm slumps over the edge of the bed in defeat. His fingertips drip water, his shirt is wet, and as he walks over, he notices the loss deep in Rikuo's eyes. Rikuo stares up at him; face devoid of hope and his lips are barely wet. There's no frustration in his face, only a keen sense of failure. Rikuo still can't manage to drink on his own – not with those broken fingers. He can only surmise how wretched the other boy feels.

It's not an easy emotion to bear – not when self-directed.

He ignores the discarded glass, turns his attention to Rikuo, and squeezes his hand, telling him "it's okay" through the simple gesture. Rikuo doesn't respond and he realizes sadly that the psychic's shutting down for a different reason now. Sometimes, enduring so much can also be devastating. It was probably true back then and it's likely to be true now, when Rikuo sees nothing worth saving reflected in Toshiya's eyes and currently, his.

So he sits on Rikuo's bed, grasping Rikuo's hand – feeling soft unblemished skin where the bandages and splints don't cover it – and squeezes his palm once in a while, letting him know and understand that his promise holds true. He doesn't leave Rikuo's side even when the younger man doesn't react and he lets the applesauce sit as the time passes by. Rikuo blinks, filling that lonely green gaze with tears; eventually, they slip, disappearing into the layers of fabric beneath. But that's the only sign he gets, for Rikuo never returns his grip with one of his own.

He sits and he tries to understand the depths of those eyes; tries to understand Rikuo; tries to understand himself and the "where", the "how", the "what", and the "why" that makes him, Kazahaya "Kazahaya". The "where" was always consistent: Green Drugstore. It's the latter that changes. The "how" becomes complicated: how he changed, how he matured, and how he faces this emotional wall without breaking down. The "what" is different, too: what causes him to stick by Rikuo's side, what lessons he's learned in the midst of this, and what else could he be, so that Rikuo won't be alone. It's the "why" primarily that shapes him: why his heart pains him when he sees Rikuo like this, why he can't stand to leave him – in spite of many other duties that may need to be done, and why he squeezes the other's hand, desperately hoping for a reciprocal gesture when none may be coming.

He pries deeper, confronting those "whys" and stumbles across a startling fact.

It's not something he would've expected months ago. It's not something he was expecting at all, supposedly. Yet, it's there. He can't deny it, and the fact is buried in those "whys". It's that nameless emotion that now has a name. He's simply never experienced it before – not like this. Never like this.

Kazahaya squeezes Rikuo's hand, trying to fathom that broken gaze, and thinks he understands now what it means to love. He thinks he knows and so he sits, fulfilling his promise. It's the most he can do for now.


	13. Dawning Rose

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Note: Dark trip down memory lane, and I really enjoyed writing this. Kazahaya's POV is always getting better._

**CHAPTER 13**

"How is he?" The voice comes from over his right shoulder, soft and gentle. It's Kakei-san and on his left, Saiga-san stands, staring down at the still figure of Rikuo that hasn't moved since the day before. Rikuo's eyes are closed and his chest is rising in slow intervals but Kazahaya's not sure if he's asleep or still locked in his cage of passivity. Reading Rikuo has always been hard because the boy kept to himself; now, it's even harder, because trauma reinforces those barriers.

"He's been like this all morning," he said, unsure of what else to say. "He's had no nightmares, though. He never fell asleep last night." He's no longer holding Rikuo's hand, which instinctively curls alongside the taller psychic's chest, as if guarding his fragile form; as if attempting to shelter him from further harm. In the weak light, he's a pale spectre, nearly translucent white and with his dark black hair falling in his eyes and the moss-green shirt accentuating his pallor, he seems to fade.

Kazahaya glances towards Saiga-san, who reaches forward and brushes Rikuo's hair back. His friend doesn't stir; although, there's a slight flicker through his eyelids. There's a yellow bruise healing on his cheekbone, stretched across chiseled bones, and unconscious or closed off as he is, Kazahaya can't help but think he's handsome. He's thought it before, but he was highly embarrassed the first time. Reflecting on his recent discovery – on the fact that he's somehow learned to love Rikuo – it's different and it feels strange acknowledging that. He doesn't know how or when it happened but apparently, love ambushed him without warning.

It's not that he doesn't like it, either.

"He's in pretty bad shape, boy. That's why I told you to be patient."

"I know." He's sitting in the chair this time instead of on the bed, and he ponders what Rikuo did and didn't tell him. "I'm not afraid this time, though. It's not like last time. This," and he leans forward a bit, noticing how the younger man's fingers innocently bent, "I'll have to let him pull out of by himself. I can't do anything about it, but be there for him."

"Did he tell you why he's like this, Kudou-kun?"

He's still gazing upon Rikuo's face, watching lashes against skin, and Kakei-san's unseen expression feels heavy along with the weight of his words. He picks his own carefully, choosing them out of recollections and discarding the personal, the unnecessary in order to shield Rikuo. "He did but not much. I only know that bastard's been at it again, but not how or why." The "why" he knows perfectly well; the "how" he isn't privy to but neither Kakei-san nor Saiga-san needed to know how ashamed Rikuo was, telling him only so much.

"It must've been bad."

_That _was an understatement. He still doesn't know how far the scale of this unknown atrocity spreads. Rikuo's body language, though, spells it out more clearly than his short, terse answers. Even those, though, showed an incredible amount of restraint; of much expressed through clipped replies. It had, unfortunately, taken Rikuo's detachment and subsequent shut down in order for that progress to go through. He remembers the tone behind that voice: cautious, numb, and as the questions continued, faint and removed. More and more that happened, until the hints of shame and deep-seated anguish broke through.

Then, Rikuo closed himself off to him.

He wants to get him back. He wants him to heal but he can't do anything unless he moves forward. Unless _he_ does something that'll allow the other male to know how much he cares. Holding and squeezing his hand is all good until his arm got tired and he got exhausted, but Rikuo never returned his grip. It's the reason why he's not resorting to the same gesture, to the same form of comfort because Rikuo needs more. Rikuo needs a lot more, and only he can give it wholeheartedly if he's not afraid.

He's been running away the whole time, or his ability's been faulty but he'll be damned if he sits here, watching the boy waste away, locked in a private hell while he's holding one out of many keys. Sure, it'll be some damnable mental raffle whatnot with Toshiya and his nine plus goons, with Tsukiko, with Yoshiro and his men, and with Eichiro, but he's looking at Rikuo and he's seeing a face gone pale with pain; eyes closed but soulless inside; evidence of a blow yellowing on his cheek; broken arm and fingers and it's like staring at a husk when life should be inside.

That's when he makes his decision.

That's when he makes his move, Kakei-san's permission or not.

Stretching out his hands, he holds Rikuo's head and lowers his forehead to his, feeling it dry and cool. There's a sound behind him, but he ignores it. Ignores Kakei-san's sharp exclamation of "Kudou-kun!" and listens as footsteps crisply move behind him. He doesn't know if Saiga-san realizes that he's trying to help Rikuo. He doesn't know if Kakei-san's watching and slowly realizing that leaving them alone would be the best choice at the moment but he doesn't care. Kazahaya's always been impulsive – doing, saying, and expressing the first things that come to mind – but today, he doesn't care. Shouldn't have in the first place; shouldn't have played a coward's role when it came to Toshiya.

Rikuo's eyes are still closed – the psychic's deeply unconscious – but he speaks anyway, hoping that something inside of him will hear and listen. "Rikuo, it's okay. It's Kazahaya. Let me in, please. I want to help you. You have to pull through yourself – I know that. But I want to help you. Please."

He's not sure if it'll work – if Rikuo trusts him enough. Yet, he's desperate enough to try this, just when he'd told Kakei-san that there's nothing he could do. There's something he can do and it's this: his ability of psychometry, raveled into his empathic talents, and the guts to plow through with it. Always, since he's known it, he's called it a curse. The way how he was brought up to use it, to see it not as a gift but to use it until he got ill or emotionally shaken, and that was only one of the reasons why he fled from Kei and the Kudou estate. Now, he's using it for what its real purpose should be – to discover, to guide, to hold, and to save.

He wants to save Rikuo. It's as simple as that.

"Please, Rikuo," he begs, and it's not out of coercion but out of concern. His eyes are also shut, sealing his world into darkness and the absoluteness of concentration. He needs every bit of it now, feeling the emptiness fill his mind, becoming a vessel for another's memories, and when his hands sag, fingers slipping and he faintly hears his name called; he would've wept at the trust given, if not for the fact that the last sensation he feels is him slumping forward, falling into soft and plushy ripples next to the person he cares for.

* * *

_Everything hurts – still hurts – and he's trying not to gasp, not to scream but he's ripping and he's tearing and it doesn't stop. Doesn't stop…they're laughing at him, about him…the agony's getting worse, burning inside of him and why doesn't he stop? Pain explodes in his belly, convulsing and buckling him and he's screaming now…no, no, he wants to scream but he can't…fire driving into him…sharp…blood…why?_

_His legs ache, hitting the floor…someone's laughing, touching him…is it Keiji or Mikuragi? He doesn't know; doesn't want to know. His insides burn…torn…he hurts so badly…when did it end? He never knows. A footstep near him…something wet hits him, rolling down his hips…a hand in his hair…so much pain. Dark eyes…a scar on one hand…Toshiya. A smile, cold…fingers down his chest – he shivers._

_"You're always such a good fuck," Toshiya says, leering at him…he feels ill…can't vomit. Something wet hits him; stinging…hydrogen peroxide…it hurts. Fingers tearing his scalp…Toshiya blurs. "I know you like it so much." He doesn't like it…doesn't but Toshiya doesn't care…laughs, shaking him so that everything blurs…spots…"Clean yourself. This is all you're good for, bitch. Make sure you're clean."_

_His head slams into the floor…another laugh…they're leaving. Footsteps…his head pounds. Everything hurts…he can't move…can't crawl…blood. He's bleeding. Wet cloth around his thighs, stinging. He wants to curl up…he can't. The door slams hard…he wants to cry but he can't. Everything hurts…nothing makes sense. He's starting to forget things…forget names. He doesn't know how long he's been here – feels like forever. He doesn't want to know. He's forgetting…maybe that's a good thing. He feels like he's always been here…doesn't remember much anymore…_

_The door opens…no, it can't be Toshiya, he wants to scream but it isn't. Something hits the floor next to him…fingers touch him…he screams, flinches. Hands hold him, hard. "Hey, hey, it's okay." Eichiro…he's tired…Eichiro. "I seriously hate that fucking asshole," Eichiro says…he would, too but the pain would get worse…"Just finished with you, didn't they? How many?"_

_"Eighteen." His throat's sore…everything's sore. "All of them."_

_"Not that fucking Toshiya?"_

_"No." He wants to cry – doesn't. "Him, too."_

_Cloth off his thighs…he screams as the agony hits him. "They fucked you up good. You won't be able to walk for a week and a half like this." Insides…sharp…unbearable pain. "I'm almost done. Can't believe that no-good sonovabitch wanted you to do this. You can't even move." He can't breath…everything hurts…head throbbing. "There. Finished."_

_He can't roll…can't curl. His stomach aches. "No," he says and his eyes burn. "Tomorrow. I won't…" He's about ready to cry but holds it in. His throat swells, painfully. "Never going to…to be able to walk…walk again."_

_"Hey, don't say that. You can't think like that, Rikuo-kun."_

_"They don't stop," he hears himself say, and the lump in his throat hurts. "They don't stop and I…I let them…stops the pain but…every time I do…I die inside, bit by bit. I let them and…" He chokes on the tears he refuses to shed. "They kill me every time…every time I do."_

_Eichiro's holding him, head on his lap…he doesn't fight it…doesn't have the energy left to protest. "Then you'll already be dead, Rikuo-kun. How many times have they come to you already? You're a survivor. You're not in the grave, yet." _

_He doesn't know if he laughs or cries when he hears that but suddenly, Eichiro's holding him tightly and belatedly, he realizes he's sobbing. "Hey, it's okay. With what that sonovabitch and his two-timing scum are doing to you, I'm surprised you haven't cried yet. It's okay. I'm still surprised you're alive, honestly."_

_He wants to say that it's because Eichiro's the one keeping him alive but he can't and his throat hurts and his eyes burn but he can't stop the tears. Only one time did he cry like this but that reason's gone because he's weak and useless and he can't help her. Eichiro holds him; he's naked, hurt, and broken, shuddering but he's sobbing and sobbing and he can't stop. He doesn't want to. He just doesn't want to._

* * *

It's different this time; so dissimilar to last time. When he comes to, he breaks into tears, weeping and he's not sure if it's because Rikuo's sobs overwhelmed him or the raw intensity of the emotions that this memory carries. Kazahaya buried his face into his arms, letting the salt streams burn down his cheeks, and this time, Kakei-san doesn't interfere. The comforter is thick beneath his arms, yielding from his weight, and he lets the darkness roll over him as he cries. Rikuo's screams; Rikuo's panicked, wild thoughts; Rikuo's hopelessness; Eichiro's kindness; Toshiya's cruel words and violent actions; Keiji and Mikuragi. Rikuo being raped _again_. Rikuo sobbing. 

It's hard to put all of that into emotions he can readily describe. He can't. He'd never thought Rikuo would let him see this memory. To see him so…_broken_. His stomach clenches, knotted and gnarled as Rikuo's mental and physical anguish struck him, recalled. He couldn't believe – oh gods – that it could get any worse than the pain that Toshiya made him felt. That first memory – that first rape – paled besides this one; diminished against everything he'd felt in this one. Where did this experience – this horrible, wretched, heartbreaking memory – fall within the time he'd been missing? When, within those five weeks?

Rikuo's eyes burned in that heart-searing shard of thought; of emotions crystallized. His eyes burn, too, as if in kinship, for the horror and the utter darkness of that time strips his soul bare – makes him hurt as well. He sees why Rikuo clung to Eichiro, for the man – who strangely, called him Rikuo-kun – was the only one there who treated him as human. Not like Toshiya, not like his men – of which Keiji and Mikuragi are – and not like the others, who threw Rikuo down, used him, hurt him, made him scream and laughed at it, whipped him with broken glass, or talked to him afterwards – when he was agonized and hurting and too worn out to fight – as if he was a whore; as if he was subhuman.

Lifting his head, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Kazahaya refocused his vision and stared at Rikuo. Nothing had changed; Rikuo wasn't awake, hadn't moved but he'd trusted him. He'd heard his pleas, heard him and listened and let him in to witness that horror, degradation, and despair. There was something else in that memory, too – where was it – and he clapped his hand over his mouth, violently ill but unwilling to lose his breakfast.

Nineteen. That was the total number; the final tally. Nineteen men, including Toshiya, were responsible for raping, torturing, and humiliating Rikuo. How…? How did he survive that – that much pain, that much hurt, that much shame? His head whirled and Kazahaya nearly was sick enough to vomit. Toshiya, Keiji, and Mikuragi. What about the others? What about the other names – the other perverts; the other bastards – that needed to be brought to justice? What about them?

Kakei-san was right. He did need to see more, hear more, and know more. There's a lot he still doesn't know – needs to know. But he's not sure if he can take it all at once. If Rikuo trusts him, will allow him to experience the ones even worse than this, he'll take his chances. Until then, at least for now, he's had enough.

As for Tsukiko…wait a minute. He did mention her in his thoughts in that memory. Something about helping her…helping her…oh gods, no! Did Rikuo run off to find and rescue Tsukiko just by himself? Without letting Kakei-san and Saiga-san know? Without letting him know? Why would he do that? Why would he confront that organization alone without back-up? He scurries through the other memories in his mind, aware that his brow's creased and feels the weight of Kakei-san's gaze but ignores it and continues digging.

Rikuo disappeared five weeks ago, during midnight, through the down-pouring rain. He'd written a note with his name and Tsukiko's on it, only to tear it up and dispose of it. He'd run off to find Tsukiko and let none of them know. _Why?_ Tsukiko – mentions of graffiti; Rikuo worrying and frustrated in that memory of a morning meal – and a room full of blood, dripping and oozing, thick and cloying. Tsukiko in the cinema, on the screen, drenched with crimson, glowing with red. Rewind, shift back to the bloody room. Last time, he'd seen something there. He refocuses, tracks the nauseating vision, and finds what he wants. There's a small decorative comb or hairpiece with flowers in it, white in that red-painted yet empty, ghastly space. Could this be another clue?

The flowers bother him and he knows why. He doesn't recognize the hairpiece but the flowers are familiar to him – he's seen them before. Strange in that room reeking of death, the open blooms are fresh, smelling of fragrant perfume, delicate; and somehow, as he sharpens his concentration, their scent overpowers the stench of iron. Kei loved flowers, true but he'd been the only runaway. Anyway, if Kei did run and try to find him, she'll be a couple months behind him, and why would she carelessly drop a comb in some stranger's home? He didn't even know Tsukiko before he'd met Rikuo; why would Kei know?

Still, he's missing a vital piece somewhere and he knows it.

Once again, he's given himself more questions than answers. He doesn't know how many of them lead to dead ends or to ridiculous speculations like that. The only thing he's certain of is that Rikuo recklessly went after Tsukiko and the organization snuffed out his life, substituting it for a living death. That's all he knows and it's the only other lead he has.

He turns to face Kakei-san and Saiga-san, who gaze at him with open concern. "Kudou-kun, are you all right? You – you went and saw something, didn't you?" The taller, beefier man next to his willowy boss doesn't say anything but silent communication conveys enough. Saiga-san knows that he saw something important; all that he needs to do is discuss it with them. But not right here in front of Rikuo, who was still unaware, still trapped in his cage.

Somewhere else. Somewhere…

He knows.

"The kitchen. I did see something." His voice trembles. "It's important for us to know."

* * *

By the time he's done spilling out most of the clues – leaving the rawness of Rikuo's memory and suffering on the wayside – the others look stunned. Kakei-san appears white and Kazahaya wonders if it's from shock or anger. Saiga-san sits, immobile, and his shielded gaze feels troubled. His voice runs dry and he waits for one of the men to start the conversation, to break the uneasy silence. 

He's not surprised that Kakei-san does, even if the question strikes him where it hurts. "Nineteen?" His boss's voice is pale, leeched and in disbelief. "Nineteen of them?"

"That's what the boy said." Saiga-san shifts next to him, pulling Kakei close and massaging the stricken male on the back of the neck. "That's what Rikuo said in his memory, didn't he?"

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. The lump in his throat increases.

"We've also got two names to add to that bastard's now." The black-clad man's voice is even, calm, controlled but there's an edge there – a sharp resonance of fury tempered, stored. He wonders what will happen when it's unleashed. "What were their names again, boy?"

"Keiji. Mikuragi."

"I want them dead," the slighter man said, tone insistent, seething with raw rage. "Them and the other sixteen who are unaccounted for. The police won't do anything about it. Slap on the wrist and they're be back on the streets again. I'm not letting Rikuo go through all that again."

"Love, isn't that the undisputed fact here? I'm sure the kid wants justice, too."

"The sooner we get it, the better."

"Kakei, what about the other point? Rikuo went there to get Tsukiko-san out."

Kazahaya blinked at the change of honorific, watching as his boss shifted to give Saiga better access. "Yes and that part doesn't make any sense. He's always come to us – always relied on you, Saiga, to find out about Tsukiko-san's whereabouts. He's a smart boy, too – too street-smart and hardened to simply run off like that. There's something wrong about this. We never found out about her but suddenly, Rikuo knows? How did that happen? And why did he leave without letting us know? Do you think he was coerced? Did someone plant the tip for him – lure him in as bait?"

"You're opening a new can of worms with those questions, love. Why would he be bait at all? For whom? She's the bait for him. I can't see why they'll want him, unless it's just to shove Tsukiko-san in his face and let him know that he'll never get her back. But that's so amateurish; juvenile, even. No, there's another reason. They have another agenda and they're using one after another to set off their plans. I'm not sure where Rikuo's role lies in their scheme."

"So much for figuring out their end-all-and-be-all strategies," Kakei sighed, sounding more like a worn-out parent than the young, brilliant owner of Green Drugstore. "You think perhaps that's why they want him back?"

"I'm sure Yoshiro wants him back for legitimate reasons. As for that rat bastard and his creeps, I'm sure it's for something else. Considering they're the ones behind the blackmail, it's a definite that their appetites are stronger than Yoshiro's commitment to whatever harebrained scheme they've got. Either way, it's landed us into quite a mess."

"Yes."

His mind's working, flipping through memories, skipping back to the first. Yoshiro…Yoshiro…the start of it all – oh wait! There it is! Kazahaya swallowed, clearing his throat. "Rikuo ran into the place. I think he started a fight or something but he never made it past the exterior hall. Someone else was telekinetic – threw something at him and knocked his head against the wall. Not long after that, Yoshiro was there." He threw his hands open. "We know the rest."

Saiga pinched the bridge of his nose, shades shifting slightly. "Great. So he stormed into the place and tried to strong-arm the organization into letting Tsukiko-san go. Probably ran into the first rank of high-level psychics after that and lost. We don't even know how high their ranks go. We don't even know where we place in that hierarchy but if Rikuo's defeat tells us anything, we're at the bottom of the food chain. Kakei, I need a smoke and some aspirin – maybe both."

"I knew you'd say that."

"Oh, don't play that on me, love."

"Still, Saiga – this gives us new worries. You said that someone else is using the organization, funding them and supporting them. If this group is really that strong, how much stronger is the one controlling them? Do you see what I'm getting at? It's not one organization we're dealing with. It's two and both of them are very powerful. Both of them are intent on getting Rikuo back and we're not sure why. We're not even sure if they want him dead or alive."

"If he's alive when they find him, he'll be dead before long."

"Yes, if that slime Toshiya has anything to say about it. I'm sure Rikuo will _want_ to be dead, then, and this time for good. Kudou-kun, is there anything else you remember?"

He's thinking and thinking, and something does come to mind. "Eichiro doesn't like Toshiya and his men very much. Yoshiro didn't, either."

"Ah, so we've got factions within the organization, huh?"

"What are you suggesting, Kakei? That we secretly try to provoke them against each other?"

"No." The man moves out from under Saiga, adjusted his glasses, and leaned forward with crossed arms on the table. His color's back, Kazahaya sees, and it brightens his face, sharpening those gentle eyes now turned flinty. "That'll just show our hand. You can't find out how Rikuo got the tip, either, Saiga. It'll look fishy with us poking around – it'll lead them here immediately. That's no good. No – be aware that Yoshiro's on one side, Toshiya's on the other, and we're not sure how many more factions established the organization together. It's obvious that their principles are different –"

Saiga coughed. Kazahaya kept his face straight, listening.

"Their principles are different and this is why you've got this in-fighting. Yoshiro doesn't approve of what Toshiya does and Toshiya thinks Yoshiro's weak. This Eichiro apparently doesn't like Toshiya but we don't know if he's from Yoshiro's side or a separate group. From what Kudou-kun told us, Eichiro's the only one who really cared how Rikuo felt. Strange to find that kind of personality in such a cold-blooded group."

"Do you think he plays any role in this whole confounded mess?"

The pretty precog shrugged. "All deductions. Until we know more, we go by these guesses. It's given us a bigger picture of what's going, though. We know the cause of Rikuo's disappearance. We know how many assailants he's been up against, the blackmailing, the structure of the organization, and just what we're facing. What we don't know is what happened to Tsukiko-san, what Rikuo's involvement is – how he's being used – and many other details. They'll come on their own time."

"We don't have much time, Kakei. I've already told the boy to pack."

"I did," Kazahaya said, interjecting his voice into the thick miasma of conversation. "I'm ready in case they come."

"Good for you, kid." Praise from Saiga-san was rare; it made him feel good. "Kakei, I think we've hit the end of our rope here. There's nothing more to discuss, is there? Is there, boy?"

He shook his head, hair flying into his eyes, and watched as both men stood. The only thing he didn't mention to them was his sneaking suspicion about those flowers in that room of blood but he's doubtful himself. Tsukiko vanished long before he'd arrived, considering that Rikuo was in Green Drugstore already prior to his rescue. At that time, Kei was still homebound; should've been, even though he's guessing here. One Kudou child missing from the estate would be enough to cause a major uproar – two would be unbelievable.

Besides, he doesn't want to preconceive faulty notions.

"Okay, boy. We'll be heading back down. Good luck with Rikuo."

Kakei-san nodded at him, expression solemn. "Let us know when he gets better, all right, Kudou-kun? That was some risk you took and without my permission." He doesn't wince, even if that's his first gut reaction. "You've never done that before. I think," and the other male's lips creased in a slight smile, "that you're seeing him as more than a friend now, right?"

He doesn't say anything.

His silence confirms everything; besides, it's not like as Kakei-san can't read him, can't see relationships for what they are. Hell, the man was in a snuggle-fest of his own – turned out to be the one he stumbled across weeks ago – and if that doesn't attune someone to the inner workings of a relationship, Kazahaya's not sure what will.

"Love him, then." The words stay; linger with him even after the man leaves. "Love him and never leave him. It's all you can do and it's all that he needs."

* * *

The words are tender, echoing in his head as he pulls the curtain open, draping green aside and sits on the chair, seeing another swath of green. He wants to see another set of green shine but they're lost in sleep – in self-imposed confinement – and he's already done what he could for Rikuo. He twines his fingers together, fidgets nervously, and ponders on the memory that tastes of bitter tears, undiluted pain, horrifying emotional hurt, and the sudden rush of all of that pent-up sickness, pouring out in sobs that never seem to end. 

He really, truly didn't understand.

Kazahaya remembers what he told Rikuo before. He recalls the reply, harsh and full of the truths that he didn't know. Couldn't have known. Saying "I understand" was the worst thing he could've done, because no, he didn't understand. He wasn't there to comprehend the brutality, the perversity, the damage done, and the life undone. He didn't undergo the torture; dread the hours, tense at the footsteps, or flinch when a touch occurred. He wasn't the one sighing in relief when the man entering was a friend and not another attacker – not another person out to ruin and destroy him, to laugh at his pain.

No, he wasn't Rikuo. It was foolish for him to ever think that he understood.

"Rikuo," he said, running a hand over the younger man's cold brow; fingertips lightly brushing soft strands of dark hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't understand. I didn't know."

He really didn't.

It was like living what the photographs showed. All of the pictures of Rikuo screaming, horribly abused – he'd felt. All of the thoughts he'd wondered about – about what Rikuo's internal monologue would be – he'd heard. All of the tears shed, wrenched from deep within, hidden for so long only because of pride – because of last defenses – he'd tasted. All of the dread, all of the panic, all of the fear – he knew.

So no, he truly didn't know.

Not until Rikuo trusted him enough, locked away in his own hurt, to hand him that knowledge. To have him share in that experience; to become another Eichiro – another person who cared when no one else did. To hold that memory secret, so that he could understand him better. He didn't know if it was because Rikuo truly wanted to heal or if that lock given to his key actually did something beneficial for them both.

But now, finally, he's starting to understand. It's a small start but it's a beginning. Rikuo's moved past his beginning – now stuck on a memory that's secret; incomprehensible to him – and he's budged past his. Their roads could at last cross.

He can meet Rikuo directly at the crossroads. Meet him there and guide him out.

It's already noon, perhaps a few hours past, if he's reading the light correctly. Saiga-san hasn't replaced all the windows, yet, but Rikuo's room has seen the repairs. The sunlight is weak, airy and yellow, and it falls through the panes of glass and diffuses into dust motes. Rikuo appears thin, almost incorporeal, and that hasn't changed since the two men joined him to check on the psychic's condition. It breaks his heart to see him like this, when he knows that, physically speaking, he's the one who should've taken his place.

But he's not. He's had no Tsukiko in his life – had no mad urge to find anyone.

Rikuo did, so Rikuo ran. Rikuo ran, tripped, fell, and was never allowed back up since then. He's still running – they're both running – and through that race, Rikuo became his version of Tsukiko. He's had to find him, had to join that maddening and sobering chase, and unlike Tsukiko, Rikuo's here before him.

It's only his soul that's fled.

Kazahaya lays his palm against the other boy's cheek, feeling the subtle pulsing of blood beneath the delicate flesh that's tinged yellow. When Rikuo was found, the bruising was purplish-black and it left his roommate looking so vulnerable, for even his face wasn't spared. He's glad that it's fading now, restoring his colleague to his previously unmarred features; although, what's beneath the shirt and the pants tell it all. He wonders if Rikuo will forever wear long shirts and jeans to hide his disfigurement.

It's highly likely, even if the thought grieves him.

Sliding his hand away, he doesn't need to say "thank you" to Rikuo, for he believes that Rikuo already knows. He's done what he could; now, it's Rikuo's turn – his choice – to stay unaware, to remain closed, warded against all pain, or to fight and to pull his way back towards recovery – back to them. It's not a decision he can make for him, so Kazahaya leaves and continues his own life.

The process is the same: organize, wash, cook, clean – as well as an eighteen-year-old boy can do – and to undo the cleanliness, rewash what's already been scrubbed, eat or dump what's been cooked, and throw soap suds at the gleaming tiles and counters. He's micromanaging his boredom and sometimes, it doesn't work. Today is one of them and the hours drag on unconscionably long so that he slips his shoes on, goes downstairs, and starts stocking shelves. It catches his boss and Saiga-san by surprise but he manages to finish a third of the day's inventory before hunger gets to him, hurling him back upstairs.

By then, it's nightfall.

He continues the normal routine, wishing all the while that Rikuo sat beside him, eating instead of lying emotionless in bed. The dishes rub smoothly against his hands, slippery with detergent and water and he shakes the excess off of the chopsticks before he places them into the dishwasher to dry. There's still a bowl of day-old applesauce on the nightstand and he knows why he can't remove it. It's silly but it's not a reason he'll reject.

Kazahaya washes, changes, and climbs into bed, shutting off the new lamp Saiga-san recently bought for them. Everything falls into black – Rikuo melts into it – and he lies there for a moment, recounting the months and the events since he's been here and he could've never seen this in his future even if he could. It's a far cry from wandering, from being lost in snow, from nearly dying because he ran away from a life that was no life at all.

How cruel that the pattern was repeated.

He closes his eyes and allows the darkness to fall.

* * *

When he wakes up, it's the green that first catches his breath, freezing him where he lies. It's the sight of Rikuo awake and although not all the pain is gone, his gaze is brighter – alive and aware – and he's no longer so pale. It's the symmetry of jade, ebony, and ivory that shapes his co-worker – that allows the rising light to wash him in truly glorious hues. He looks at Rikuo, who stares back at him and beneath that broken and healing form, he sees someone truly beautiful and worthy of saving. 

He only wishes he can become Rikuo's mirror, so that he may see the same.

Standing, discarding the sheets that slip back onto the bed, he walks over to the younger man. There are no words exchanged – there's no need to. He holds out his hand, feels Rikuo's join with his and this time, his grip's returned. It's not long, though, before the psychic releases his hold, buries his face into his pillow, and starts to cry.

"Rikuo," Kazahaya said, kneeling down, and he knows he's playing Eichiro's role but he's also Kazahaya Kudou and Rikuo Himura is someone that he's known for a while. Therefore, he doesn't leave – promised never to leave – and heeding Kakei-san's words, stays there and holds that hand with its splinted fingers and gives him the only comfort he can. It's another breakthrough and this time, Rikuo did it without resorting to rage or violence. Instead, trust was established; perhaps now, with both of their beginnings behind them, anything can happen.

Minutes later, when Rikuo's better composed, it does.

"Is there anything to eat?" Rikuo sounds genuinely starved. "I'm hungry."

Kazahaya smiled.


	14. Windswept Ivory

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Comment: Oh my God, this was hard to write! Must've 'murdered my darlings' three times over before I finally got it right. Also notice that it's short – had to be this time in order for this chapter to work. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers for sticking with me thus far! Thank you very much :)_

**CHAPTER 14**

"Rikuo, this is insane." Snow swirled around them, stinging his cheek; the wind skirled high and fierce, keening; visibility was low and knives of ice sliced into him, chilling his blood. Shivering even with his down jacket on – which made him feel like a bloated winter chicken – Kazahaya wondered how he ever got convinced to go on this mad excursion. Like it or not, it was Rikuo's idea. For some addled reason, the other youth wanted to go outside into the teeth of a ferocious snowstorm. On the rooftop, nonetheless; scarily enough, they've already had a few close calls. The steps were slick with ice, slippery with layered snowflakes, and more than once, they've had to grab onto the railing to avoid tumbling down the stairs. With Rikuo's broken arm, it was even more of a hazard.

"I know."

Shooting the psychic a pointed glance, Kazahaya turned back to stare at the incoming blurs of white. Cursing as a snowflake jabbed his eye with icy precision, he rubbed furiously at it. This was why he preferred staying indoors during a goddamn snowstorm. What had possessed Rikuo to suggest idly strolling onto the roof – in freezing weather, too – when they could've been inside, eating and drinking something hot? It wasn't as if he didn't warn him about pneumonia, slipping and falling, breaking bones, or tumbling down the stairs.

"If you know, then why are we here?"

Rikuo turned to face him, features starkly framed by dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and the snow flying around them. His eyes were lucid, startlingly calm, and clear like glass. Although the weather tossed white nily-wily, causing havoc until his head spun, Kazahaya saw how it transformed Rikuo. Surrounded by swirls that danced around him, the taller male appeared serene, clothed in black that covered all of his frailty; and there, in the storm, he was strong. When Rikuo wrapped his unbroken fingers around the railing and looked down briefly, Kazahaya realized that softness and vulnerability were also there.

He simply hadn't seen them.

"Kazahaya," the other male said, glancing back at him. "I had to get out."

"Why?"

"I don't like the walls. Not all the time. Not since…"

He didn't need Rikuo to finish that sentence. He understood. Although Green Drugstore's apartment had windows to let in the air, to welcome the light, to frame the night – it still had walls. Rikuo had seen so many walls during his captivity. Didn't Kazahaya understand that? Of course he did. He saw steel walls in the memories. He saw the same gray walls in the photographs where acts that shouldn't have happened occurred. He saw human walls in the same images – walls that didn't break until a man was done so that another could partake in the spoils. He saw nothing but physical walls and knew that inside of Rikuo, emotional and mental walls also existed.

This, he understood.

"You don't need to tell me, Rikuo. I know."

"I couldn't tell what time it was." The words began to flow; became lost in the crying wind. "I couldn't tell whether it was day or night." Ice-blue fingers clenched, tightening, and Rikuo continued speaking next to him, seemingly impervious to the chill. "I started to forget things there. I only knew what was going to happen was always the same. That never changed."

"Didn't Eichiro tell you what time it was?"

"No. I never asked him to. It seemed more…" Pause. "It was more bearable, not knowing."

"Oh. What were you forgetting?"

A blink of an eye, covering transparent green, and Rikuo didn't look at him. Instead, set his face into the maw of the storm. "Names. Faces. Where I lived. Who I was." A bitter laugh answered the wind, which cried back, cascading down a fresh wave of snow. "I forgot all those and remembered others."

His heart ached. "Remembered what, Rikuo?"

Rikuo shuffled and the fairer psychic saw his shoulders hunch inward. "_Their_ names. _Their_ faces. _Their_ words. _Their_ touch." At that, Kazahaya shivered, noticing how the younger man violently shuddered. "They never let me forget it. Who I became. What I was to them. The only thing I was good for. Even now…" Rikuo's voice broke. "Even now, I can't forget."

Somewhere in the distance, something tinkled, falling into endless silence. Below them, on the third floor was a warm apartment full of light, full of love but also full of walls. He remembered Christmas evening for both of them: He, unwilling to die and wanting to live even though people ignored him; Rikuo, dying and unable to live, isolated and ultimately ignored. If it wasn't for Rikuo, he wouldn't be here right now, staring at him; momentarily, forgetting the snowstorm. If it wasn't for Kakei-san, Rikuo wouldn't be here at this moment, staring into the storm, hurting and remembering the source of that ache. They were only separated by a year in both incidents and for both, snow was prevalent.

Speaking of which…

"Rikuo, why exactly _are_ we out here? Is it because of the snow?"

"It's the first thing I saw."

That answered a lot. He left it at that and removed his glove. Rikuo's fingers were frozen, burned to the quick from the abrasive chill and they twitched slightly as his hand made contact. "It's okay, Rikuo." Even now, with all that lay between them, Rikuo startled; Kazahaya closed his fingers around the other's, shielding them from the elements. Everything was white – specks and specks of it in every direction – except Rikuo, who was a beacon of black and he, plumped out in red with his face flushed the same color.

He swore he had a runny nose.

"Your fingers are getting cold, Kazahaya."

"It's okay. Yours already are, Rikuo. Don't you feel them?"

The other psychic nodded, never looking at him. "It doesn't matter. I'm used to it."

Kazahaya bit his lip, refusing to cry. Rikuo wasn't saying much but he understood every nuance in his replies; however short they were. He wondered how long they were going to stay here, seeing what couldn't be seen, letting the storm render them insignificant, and if both of them were going to have fevers the next day. Lying cooped up in bed with medicine, cough drops, and Saiga-san's homemade soup for a week wasn't his way of enjoying the winter. Looking at Rikuo, though, he decided that if both of them got sick, it wouldn't be too bad.

They'll just have to suffer together, that's all.

"You were gone for a long time, Rikuo."

"I know." The younger man grimaced. "It felt like that. Don't tell me how long, Kazahaya. I don't want to know."

Let him be ignorant on this one, his mind told him, and Kazahaya reluctantly agreed. After all, five weeks _was_ a long time. How was he going to explain to Rikuo that gap of time without re-opening old wounds? The only thing Rikuo was aware of at the time was snow after his grueling captivity; how and why would he tell him that Christmas was the day they found him – that he'd been gone since the last week or so in November? The irony of the situation was cruel and he didn't want Rikuo to compare and contrast their holiday trials, only to see that his was so much worse. That was something he could never impose on him.

"The storm's picking up," he heard Rikuo say matter-of-factly, neck craning upwards as if to challenge the thick of it. White blanketed around their boots, nestled on their scarves, dotted their intertwined hands, and swiped harshly against their faces. Green eyes blinked, batting away flakes the size of his fingernails, only to settle on him. Rikuo's face was white, cheeks flushed red with cold, and his chapped lips were the faintest color of crimson. For once, he couldn't read the expression displayed across those features.

He didn't need to.

"Thank you. I…I needed to be out here. I guess we can go back now."

In reply, he sneezed.

"Kakei-san's gonna kill me if we get sick, Rikuo. You're barely well and…" There was no reason, at all, to mention to Rikuo how he fell into the pond, caught a cold, and had his boss and Saiga-san laugh at him. Not to mention that it later linked with Tsukiko during the movie. Not to mention that it still embarrassed him to this day at how gullible he was in taking those side jobs. He was lucky, thanks to Rikuo that he didn't drown.

What he did get was a bellyful of invisible fireflies, though.

He sneezed again.

"You're going to get sick, Kazahaya."

It took all his willpower not to glare at his roommate. "It was your idea."

"I know. I think we better start heading back."

Kazahaya didn't protest as Rikuo removed his hand from beneath his, shoving it deeply into one of several pockets. Uncurling his from the railing – hopefully not frostbitten – he slid it into one of his insulated gloves and stamping his feet against the frigid wind, started to move in the direction of the stairs. If they managed to make it back down without slipping and possibly breaking a bone or two – in his case, maybe three – then this mad trip was worth it. Still, he was going to regret the fever that inevitably was going to come.

Behind him, Rikuo coughed.

"Oh goddammit, not you, too!"

His roommate's voice was hoarse. "I guess we'll deal with it later."

Right. After they're done dealing with the icy stairs, the possibility of tripping and breaking their necks, the close calls with Rikuo's hampered mobility, and the fact that the storm wailed over them, hurling white straight into their faces. He could barely see; thank goodness that Rikuo hovered close to him, black against his red. He had no idea how in the world he was going to explain this to a fuming Kakei-san. He only hoped that Saiga-san would mitigate some of that outrage.

It would help, too, he mused grumpily, if Rikuo explained his part.

Another cough. He sneezed right after that.

"I told you we're gonna get pneumonia!"

"Kazahaya, I think we're at the stairs."

Rolling his eyes at the absurdity of the whole event, he clung onto Rikuo's uninjured arm – feeling the tremor that ran through Rikuo when he did – and growling under his breath, started the arduous trek down. "Remind me never to do this again in under zero degree weather!"

"Kazahaya, your eyes are getting red."

"Rikuo, shut up."

"You nearly slipped. I guess you're right."

"Kakei-san's gonna kill me!" Pause. "Rikuo, your voice…"

His roommate tilted his head towards the right where their door was. Almost there. If only they could make this last step without doing something stupid…

Kazahaya slipped, wobbled, and if it wasn't for Rikuo anchoring him where he stood, he would've met the icy metal surface with a resounding smack. He groaned. As much as he liked talking to Rikuo up there, understanding more and seeing how Rikuo melded with the snow, this wasn't fun. Not at all. Gritting his teeth, he tugged on Rikuo's arm. "Come on, Rikuo. Almost home."

"Who's going to kill you again?"

"My boss."

Pause. Silence and he could almost hear the gears chugging along in the black, snow-covered figure next to him. "Before he does that, can we get some cough drops? My throat hurts."

He was tired. Cold. Hungry. His nose was dripping.

_Wonderful._

"Rikuo?"

"Kazahaya?" They made it to the door and he nearly shoved Rikuo through. He tripped in himself, a pile of snow, a pair of boots, and heaps and heaps of down-stuffed folds. Snatching the hat off his head, he tossed it aside. Then, he sneezed and this time, hard.

"Goddammit."

"Kazahaya, are you okay?"

Another sneeze that ripped his lungs out and he braced himself against the wall so that the next one wouldn't topple him. Why did it have to be him? Then, Rikuo coughed and the older psychic wanted nothing more than to push him into bed. Two sick boys for a conversation outside in a forecasted snowstorm – great exchange. He'll remind Rikuo of that the next time he wanted to commune with him and with nature, walls or no walls.

He was getting the chills. Just perfect.

"Rikuo?"

"What?" Shaking his head, Kazahaya stumbled over to the coughing boy and took his arm. The unmistakable flinch was still there. After all of that. Walls and memories, indeed. Damn that Toshiya.

"Shut up and let's get some rest."


	15. Crumbled Ebony

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Note: Warning – this is a hard 'M.' Squick factor involved._

**CHAPTER 15**

It started with a memory, with someone falling, with him reaching out – perhaps foolishly – to catch and hold. It started with Rikuo's bed being empty, sheets thrown aside, and Kazahaya awakening to that absence. To the alarm and ache that it caused, because he knew the reason for Rikuo's disappearance. He'd flung himself out of his own bed; comforter rumpled and rose, walking silently out of their room. Remembered the swaying curtain behind him, marking his passage; remembered the silent tread of his steps; finally, remembered the ashen skin, dark hair, and the sleepless gaze of the younger man, staring at him as he entered the hallway.

It all started with that.

* * *

_A knife in his chest, cutting deep. His breath, ragged and thin, gasping in response. Blood on his skin – an open wound. Steel beneath his knees and in him, twisting. Choked on the pain, writhing, only to be held from falling by merciless fingers in his hair, knuckling into his scalp. A dull throbbing, an ache beginning where the blade stopped in mid-turn. His hands rising to grasp it, cutting his palms and fingers, scoring lines of red._

_A different game, this. Different rules. He'd learned that early._

"_Who do you belong to, boy?"_

_Rage in that voice, brooking no argument. He'd seen a man slain in front of him, for attempting to wrest leadership and him – he shuddered – from Toshiya. Had never had to say whom he belonged to. Didn't want to start now. Didn't want to give the other man the satisfaction of breaking him further._

_Kept silent._

_The blade turned. He cried out. The fingers tightened in his hair. "Answer me."_

* * *

"Rikuo?" 

"Kazahaya?" His name catching in the other's throat. "You don't have to."

"Was it another nightmare?" Getting to the heart of it all; the truth that lay beneath the surface of this matter and their relationship. It had been a difficult week. "I didn't hear you scream. I didn't know."

"You don't have to." A bitter, corrosive smile. "I woke myself up."

* * *

_No one there to stop him. No one there to hold back Toshiya's hand. The knife cut elsewhere, directly beneath his nipple. He gasped; his breathing shallow. Heat and ice, his blood flowing steadily down his ribs. His neck ached, strained as it was in the position the other man held him to. Silence in the room, frightening and only the dull scrapes of Toshiya's shoes against the floor made any noise._

"_Answer me."_

_The injuries would be enough to bleed him, to hurt him – not to kill. Never would. He wanted to die but not in the way Toshiya intended for him. Not to be mutilated, raped, and butchered and dumped in the open for all to see. Not like that. Not like…_

_He screamed; his shoulder filleting open, pouring red._

"_Answer me!"_

_Sobbing for breath, wracked with pain, he couldn't resist as his head was wrenched back so that he looked Toshiya full in the face. Was sickened by the hatred, malice, and lust there. No older than him and doing this…doing everything…why? Steel entered his arm, tracing the lines of his tattoo and his throat ripped to shreds with his shrieks as the cutting began._

* * *

"Rikuo, don't do this to yourself." 

"I have no choice," the other boy stated bluntly, shuddering. "I can't sleep."

"Rikuo…" The nightmares, Kazahaya recalled, had worsened ever since both of them got sick. He'd recovered faster, thanks to Kakei-san's medicine and Saiga-san's homemade meals but it wasn't the same for Rikuo. His roommate had sunk into delirium, quickly losing sense of reality and the panicked wordless screams became routine. It reminded him of earlier times, of the same sort of cries, and that, too, brought back horrible memories. Rikuo would take longer to heal, to recover, to regain full strength and to start making a new beginning.

Looking at him now, he wasn't sure if that was possible.

"Rikuo," and it was his turn to ask. "What are you going to do now?"

A flash of pain across the other's face.

"Because of this?" The sling had come off a couple days ago, along with the splints. There were scars all over Rikuo's arms, across his fingers, and as the younger man turned his hand, Kazahaya glimpsed a faded line on his palm. "I don't know."

* * *

"_Answer me, bitch!"_

_He clung to his shoulder; blood slippery on his fingers, leaking into the wounds already scored there. He could sob but the intermittent agony wouldn't go away. His skinned shoulder was a mass of pain, a clot of red, and there was nothing he could do about it. He curled in on himself and felt his arm go numb. His fingers were frozen and drops of blood dripped from them, spattering the floor. It didn't matter much, considering he knew how this was going to end._

_He closed his eyes, nauseous._

_Felt his cheek flattened against the floor, ice to the fire burning across his chest and searing waves over his arm. Knew what was going to happen. Could do nothing to stop it, like all the other times. Tears in his eyes. A rustling behind him. Clenched his teeth so that he wouldn't scream._

_Nearly did as the pain severed him, like all the other times._

* * *

He tried to be gentle. "You're not back there, anymore, Rikuo." 

Shadows in the other's eyes, smudging green. Rikuo's hands went down, as if in unconditional surrender. "No, I'm not." Something left unsaid but the older psychic could sense the wrongness of it.

"Rikuo?"

"It…it doesn't matter."

* * *

"_Answer…" Thrust. "…me…" Thrust. "…you…" Thrust. "…shit!"_

_He wasn't really conscious of things, anymore. The numbness in his arm had disappeared when his vision began to blur. Time had slowed down for him and he experienced everything in a haze. The other man still swearing, still grunting, still on top of him and hurting him. He'd barely healed before the altercation began. It left Shinjiri dead, throat slit right in front of him. It left Toshiya in a fury, which quickly turned on him. It left him lying here, blood on his chest and arm – going unconscious – with a man between his thighs and the slow leak of blood that was bleeding him cold._

_He trembled, as if by an afterthought and stopped thinking._

_Only felt – after what seemed like an unconscionable amount of time – Toshiya finishing and pulling out, leaving him naked and shivering. A finger tracing his jaw; he flinched at the touch and even the sudden pressure couldn't open his eyes. Dampness on his legs and the brutal knife-edge of agony in between that paralyzed him where he lay. A hand on his shoulder, crushing hard into serrated skin, reopening the clotting wounds._

_He almost blacked out._

"_Answer me." A disembodied voice, echoing in the dark. "Answer me, Rikuo."_

* * *

He took a tentative step forward, saw Rikuo cringe and stopped. Hesitated right where he was, stunned. "Rikuo?" Only a week ago, he'd been holding his hand, sheltering him from the snow. Were they back to the beginning now? Did they have to start all over again because of some terrible nightmare that recalled memories? As for Rikuo's words…something wasn't right. _It…it doesn't matter._ A common catchphrase of his, now. 

Something did matter; he had to find out what.

"You can go back to working in the store with me….like we used to."

"I…go back to sleep, Kazahaya."

"Rikuo, don't."

"You're asking for the impossible." The words were caustic, biting. Rikuo's expression hardened. "I can't return to 'before.' You know that."

"It doesn't have to be that way. You can try. I'll help."

"Help with what? Kazahaya, do you know what I've become?"

* * *

_Rikuo. His name. A pair of pale green eyes. Rikuo – his name on Toshiya's tongue, twisted into something ugly. It wasn't intimacy; it was rape. It was cruelty. Rikuo…his name…shouldn't be said…not by him…not by him…_

"_Answer me, boy."_

_His voice was almost gone…almost without words. He couldn't open his eyes; felt the grip on his jaw intensify, dragging him up. Could feel Toshiya's foul breath in his face, smelling not of smoke and alcohol but sourness. His stomach turned._

"_Answer me, Rikuo."_

_Tsukiko. A name…his own, said by her. Years ago before this happened. Someone yelling his name…green eyes…his name, a mockery. No longer a name to be proud of…something that he hated. He gasped, sharply, as he was broken into again. Blood on the other man's fingers, buried inside of him._

"_Your answer, whore."_

* * *

The conversation sounded familiar. Sickeningly so, as a matter-of-fact. "You're not theirs, Rikuo. You're not his. Just stop it." 

"Ah, so you do know why I can't go back with you and resume my life." A trace of the old sarcasm but used for a different purpose and the comment stung. "Go back to bed. There's nothing you can do to bring things back the way they were."

"Why not?"

"Do you hear yourself?"

"No," Kazahaya snapped back, advancing. "Do you hear _yourself_? You're giving up without a fight. You're letting Toshiya run you into the ground even when he's not here. You're letting your nightmares tell you what you are and you aren't fighting back! Have you ever been like this, Rikuo? Have you ever given up without a fight?"

It was quiet after that.

* * *

_He wanted to die, to black out, to…anything but this. His lip was bitten bloody and as another finger rammed inside him, choking out the last of his cries, he wondered why he still lived. Should've been dead a long time ago. Dying in his own blood, torn apart by the frenzy of men who could care less about his life, and thrown into the street for anyone – or anything else – who still wanted him. A life now useless for Tsukiko…pale green eyes…trash, not worth mourning for._

"_Your answer."_

_He was going to faint. Had lost too much blood…still losing some…something ripped inside him and he finally, mercifully, felt the sensation of everything slamming down. Felt the dwindling pain of something wrenching free from him, of the cool floor rising up to meet him, and the click of the door. Thought he heard a name being called…not his..._

"_Goddamn it to fucking hell, Toshiya! What did you do to him?"_

_Never heard the answer._

* * *

"You didn't just say that." Rikuo stared at him, stricken. "You didn't mean that." 

"_What?"_

Rikuo backed away from him, hitting the wall. He hadn't moved a single step in his direction since his outburst. Did so now and Rikuo's scream stopped him as if he'd been slapped. "Don't touch me!" The taller male flinched, trembling. "Just…don't."

He wanted to cry. "What did they _do _to you?"

"Go away, Kazahaya."

"Rikuo…"

"Go away!"

Kazahaya bit his lip. A headache was forming; he was standing out here in his pajamas and Rikuo's behavior harkened back to the beginning. To December. To panic and skittishness – to unspoken anguish and the barriers hiding them. They'd been making progress; Rikuo had been eating and rebounding and tonight, he saw it all fall apart.

It wasn't fair.

"Rikuo…" He'd been about to make another assay to mend their situation when suddenly, Rikuo winced. Grimaced and raised a hand to his forehead and being so close, Kazahaya noticed the distress contorting his features. Pain in his eyes and sweat beading his face. Damp hair hanging, shielding his expression but not before Rikuo winced again, keen and gasping. A hand flying out to flatten against the wall, fingers splayed, barely holding on for support.

"_Rikuo!"_

"No…don't." Rikuo's voice was thin, as if scraped bare. "Go."

"But –"

He never got further than that, for Rikuo collapsed at that moment, as if snapped in two at the knees. He wasn't thinking, either, and so when Rikuo fell, he reached out and grabbed him. Wrapped his arms around him, caught him, and then he, too, knew no more.

* * *

It was dawn by the time Rikuo came to; it'd still been dark when Kazahaya awoke, tasting bad breath in his mouth with the sensation of his arms around the other boy. He'd detached himself, blinked and upon realization of what he'd seen, promptly removed himself from the hall. It took a dry heaving or two and a good fifteen minutes or so of rapid waterworks before he'd stopped sniffling, rubbing at his red-rimmed eyes. His head hurt like a goddamn pulse beating at his skull and his heart cracked and bled. 

Oh, he'd made so many mistakes!

Rikuo not fighting back? Rikuo giving in without resistance? He'd accused him of that; had reopened a wound that had come back to haunt him in dreams. Was that the source of last night's nightmare – that…that hideous atrocity? That torture? Rikuo hadn't given in – _hadn't _– and Toshiya had nearly killed him for it. Had done anything and everything possible and Rikuo…Rikuo hadn't said a word, despite being mangled and raped for his silence.

And he'd told Rikuo to his face that he was a coward.

Gods, he could kill himself for his stupidity!

No wonder Rikuo was in the hallway, pale and raw-eyed, thinking in the dead of night. He couldn't sleep, he'd told him. Well, no wonder he couldn't – he wouldn't be able to, either, if he had that kind of memory encroaching on his mind! Kazahaya nursed his mug of hot water, using it to warm his chilly hands. Rikuo had thought of Tsukiko…had thought of him…when all of that violence and bloodshed had taken place. Rikuo had forgotten his name – forgotten many things – but there was no mistaking those pale green eyes for his own.

His head pounded. He could care less about the aspirin for now.

Toshiya…that feckless bully…that bloody butcher had…had carved Rikuo open…had skinned him – Kazahaya shuddered, remembering the scarred imprint of the tattoo – and had violated Rikuo, all for the sake of a name. A man already murdered, already dead. The transgression paid for in blood; the culprit punished, so why did Rikuo pay the price from his own skin simply because of Toshiya's insecurities?

He felt sickened; could be physically ill.

He decided against throwing up his guts. A headache was bad enough.

A man killed – Shinjiri, an upstart who wanted to claim the title of boss and the boss's pet slave and had his throat cut for it. Rewind. Nineteen men, originally. A man down. Eighteen men, now? His head reeled and the insistent throbbing hammered into the middle of his skull. Great. He still didn't know what happened to Tsukiko and the only memories he got catalogued consisted of vivid remembrances of torture. Of rape. Of the taste of fear and the iron stench of blood and the coarse smells of sex and words as lethal as knives.

He nearly upset the mug, shooting to his feet.

One of the photographs showed a faceless man with a knife dangling off his belt. Toshiya. The one who injured Rikuo and left him exposed for a pornographic shot and the rest of his men, besides. Two identifying marks: a scar on one hand and a knife in his possession. A young man, too, no older than Rikuo. Eighteen or nineteen, perhaps? Eyes dark and cold, cunning and shifty like a wild nocturnal animal. A man who knew how to exact fear as a weapon. A man who knew how to think and plan down to the last detail.

A frightening and formidable opponent.

Toshiya had already killed one of his own. It wouldn't be a stretch for him to kill anyone else if Rikuo was concerned. Including them. Including him, Kakei-san, and Saiga-san. Would probably get pleasure from it, too – the bastard. And then take Rikuo back as a prize and ruin him until there was nothing left. Until Rikuo was nothing more than blood and skin and bits of bone, dying a horrendous death, dumped and forgotten. Until the only memories left of the young man who once was handsome, intelligent, and sarcastic belonged in dirty hands and filthy minds as images on photographs.

He wouldn't let it get to that point. Wouldn't, even if _he_ had to die.

His heart thudded.

Kazahaya turned, hearing the soft whispering of blankets behind him. Looked up and at Rikuo, who was white around the mouth. There were dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked at him and Rikuo was the first to glance away, stiffening.

"Did…did you see anything?"

An echoing of the beginning. Many steps backward. A nightmare. A dream.

He met Rikuo's intense gaze, saw the terror and shame, and saw instead a knife in his chest, fingers in his hair, and blood on his shirt. Saw those, blinked, and wiped his mind clean of those; hoping, too, that his face remained expressionless. He refocused on Rikuo and the silence was expectant. Awaiting his answer. Awaiting many things.

"No," he said, watching color return to the other's face. "I didn't."

Rikuo didn't say anything in reply, simply left him standing there. There was a slump across the shriveled shoulders, heartbreaking to behold, and it wasn't until he heard the curtain close that he sat down, knees weak. He could cry; should, for they've reached an impasse here and he'd failed. He'd failed and Rikuo was failing, too because of him.

Kazahaya stared emptily at the wall.

It was the only thing he could do.

* * *

It had all started with an empty bed, a discussion in the hall that quickly evolved into an argument, and a foolish, desperate grab as the younger man fell unexpectedly, shattering their shared hopes into pieces. 

It had all started with that.

It ended, regrettably, with a lie.


	16. Sunlit Silver

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 16**

"Boy, are you feeling okay?"

Kazahaya wiped his fingers on his apron, removing the sticky smears of exploded lip gloss from his hands. This batch was a bad one, with the tubes bursting upon removal, painting him in the flavors and colors of peach, strawberry, mint, and raspberry. He smelled like fruit salad; probably tasted like one, too. Grimacing at how sparkly his green apron was, he proceeded to the sink to wash the rest of the gunk off. Behind him, Saiga-san followed, towering and dark.

The hot water felt good against his skin. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He turned the faucet, closing the tap and pulled a length of paper towel to dry his hands. There were sparkles in the curves of his nails. "Yeah. Why?"

"Because you misplaced this," the other man said, proffering a tiny closed tin of another brand of lip gloss towards him. "This is spearmint, not green apple. Don't let Kakei dock your pay, boy. You can't afford to right now."

"It's not as if I'm using it much."

"No grocery shopping, no extra expenses…nothing, boy?" An eyebrow rose, a dark curve above the concealing black shades. "Between the two of you, I'd expect you to eat more. Did something happen between you and Rikuo?"

"Nothing did," he said, taking the container, keeping his voice level.

"Really? Doesn't seem like it to me."

* * *

In actuality, things weren't going so well but he didn't need to tell Saiga-san that. One: Rikuo rebuffed his attempts at physical contact, communicating deep hurt at his careless remarks. Two: The nightmares were worsening by the day and Rikuo looked awful. Three: Rikuo was eating but he'd stopped speaking to him, avoiding him whenever possible. Four: He felt like shit but since his roommate shut him out, he'd never had a chance to say so. Five: It was only the third day after that surreal night. Six: That was the first time he'd seen Rikuo collapse in front of him like that. Seven: After his admission that he'd seen nothing, he wished he could take that back, which wasn't going to happen. Eight: He wasn't sure what Rikuo was going to do with Toshiya's shadow lingering over him like that. 

Which left him at number nine: What _was_ he going to do to chase away that threat?

The memory was still very real, very raw. It was as if the knifepoint was in his chest, inducing that pain and the words at his ear, asking for something that he refused to give. A memory that didn't fade, even with all the elapsed time, remembered word for word, action by action, and sensation by sensation. The agony was very real, hard to imagine but Rikuo had been sick and pale and the nighttime awakenings were no coincidence.

It left them at an uneasy standstill.

Rikuo was upstairs, awake but haunted and Kazahaya had no idea when his life would resume normalcy. Last night had been a bad one – even worse than the previous ones – and Rikuo, shuddering, had refused his comfort. Had locked himself in the bathroom, slumping against the door, and although it remained silent, Kazahaya could guess what happened. It wasn't like Rikuo to cry in front of him anymore. An internal turning, this and he had no part in it. It was like the old Rikuo again but a shade sadder and knowing the cause, gloomier.

It wasn't a thought he wished to ponder, so he returned to the present. Returned to normalcy the way he knew it. Returned to now.

* * *

"Some issues. Nothing big," he said and shrugged. It wouldn't do to outright lie, considering the other man sniffed out lies like a bloodhound and he wasn't a particularly good liar to begin with. He wondered if Rikuo knew and didn't say anything. That last glance Rikuo gave him kept him up two nights ago, for it was full of "could-be" turned into "won't-be" and the fact of it wounded deeper than any injury would. It was one of the many things preventing them from bridging the gap created. "It's not anything big." 

"Boy, you're a terrible liar. Shows all over your face. Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"Nothing's wrong."

Saiga-san looked at him, shook his head and shrugged, raising massive shoulders. "If you say so, boy. I guess we have to let you and Rikuo sort it out yourselves, now, don't we? If you need any help, let us know. I'll be in the back. Talk to you later, kid."

It wasn't until the break room door shut that Kazahaya relaxed, closing his fingers over the container of lip gloss and restoring it back to its appropriate shelf. Saiga-san treated him as an adult but the man had read him – had known, somehow, that things weren't quite right – and it disturbed the psychic to know that. If Saiga-san said that his emotions were there for all to see, then Rikuo must've known. Known and didn't mention it – not even a word. Had gone back to bed, to staring at the wall, knowing and perhaps, in the end, that was what made the nightmares worse.

He didn't want another headache.

Lifting a box of disposable tissues, he brought it out to the front, where the display racks were. He'd barely started filling them when giggling snapped his head up, so that he stared at the bunch of colorfully-dressed schoolgirls stuck together like winter butterflies – Kakei-san's version of the invisible bugs, no doubt – and smiled. It was a staffer's smile – the kind employees gave to every customer in Japan by being overly polite – and it stuck on his face. One of the girls, pretty and sweet, flitted towards him, breathlessly laughing.

"Ne, you're cute."

He hated this. Smiled. Addressed her as was fitting. "What can I do for you?"

"We're looking around and didn't see any chocolates. Can you tell me where they are?"

"Sure. Third shelf, on the second row. Do you need a hand?"

A girlish giggle. "No. We'll manage."

He breathed a silent sigh of relief as the girl left, joining the clique of friends, gathering around the third shelf and whispering among themselves. Valentine's Day was coming up soon, so they were probably mentioning the names of boys. He felt a distinct pang; tried, resolutely, to ignore it. He wasn't a girl dressed in jewelry, carrying a cell phone dangling with charms, or gossiping over there in the corner about so-and-so "what's-his-face." It wasn't as if he hadn't cross-dressed – thanks to the plans of Kakei-san and Saiga-san – or engaged in chatting amounting to gossip with Nayuki, but he didn't need to talk about any boy. It wasn't necessary.

There was only one face he could think of.

Rikuo.

A clatter sounded outside, near the corner and dropping the packs of tissues onto the counter, Kazahaya skirted the front and headed for the entrance. Broke into the open air and the cold, brilliant sunshine and stopped, feeling that pang in his heart sharpen. Saw Rikuo, dressed in a thin jacket and jeans, picking himself up from where he'd fallen. Their eyes met – the dark ones glancing elsewhere – and slowly, almost painfully, the other boy stood up, not even bothering to brush the snow off. He looked exhausted, wan, and wretched; ashen, dry and red-eyed, mouth thinning into a line and from the marks in the day-old snow, Kazahaya could tell Rikuo probably swayed, tired, and lost his balance.

He moved closer, wanting to give him a hand but the psychic ignored him. It was like this the night before and the night before that, so why was he surprised? Letting him go, he followed him into the store; intrigued because this was the first time Rikuo'd come down here on his own prerogative. The last time, Saiga-san took Rikuo down here because the upstairs went through quite an upheaval. This was actually the very first time the other boy visited the place and from the expression on the other's face, it didn't seem to be a welcome back.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Rikuo?" he asked, apprehensive. "What's wrong?"

The other boy didn't answer him. Didn't look at him. Instead, stared in front and inhaling sharply, trudged forward. Kept walking until an uneasy halt before the shelves, where a myriad of products awaited. He saw Rikuo reach forward, take an item off the shelf, and stare at it, as if remembering. It looked like the tin of lip gloss he'd misplaced. A simple thing, really. But held in Rikuo's hand, with that distant look across the other's features, the gloss seemed to carry more import than a mere piece of merchandise.

It carried memories. Good ones.

He saw Rikuo wince, closing his fingers tight around the tin. _Remembering._

Not all memories always stayed good. Sometimes, they threw the darker ones in deeper and blacker shadows. Perhaps this was so. _I can't return to 'before'_, Rikuo told him, agonized, cloaking it in the hard edges of anger and seeing him like this drove that realization home. It hurt. Returning to this life as if nothing happened would be deceptive. Rikuo wasn't kidding with him when he spoke of how impossible it would be. But they could try, only if Rikuo was willing to try. He didn't want to see this futility – this fatalism – stamped into Rikuo's life forever.

"Rikuo?"

The boy shook his head. Gave him no reply. Pain in his eyes and memories, too. Released the tin, so that it clattered to the floor. A mirroring – the person first; the item second. Merchandise, both. He understood or so he thought he did. Stepped closer and Kazahaya wanted to reach out himself and touch him. Knew that if he did, Rikuo would shudder and flinch. The other set of memories had left deeper impressions, eaten away at Rikuo, and the result was this. He hadn't heard his voice or seen his gaze in three days.

Rikuo had placed his arm against the shelf, leaned into it, and covered his face with it. Coping and in this pharmacy where people were friendly and the atmosphere was clean and good, the next level of anguish was unpeeled. Rikuo's eyes were shut and the trembling, while subtle, was there.

He could see it.

"Rikuo…"

A squeal from shelf number three interrupting his train of thoughts and his string of would-be words. Chocolates forgotten, the schoolgirls bustled out, nearly tripping over themselves in their haste. Observing them – noticing, as if for the first time, the presence of both boys; of him and Rikuo. It came as a shock to him that they would still remember Rikuo after so long. A month and a half. Didn't the girls have anything better to do instead of ogling them?

No, not them. Not him. Rikuo.

They were ogling Rikuo.

"Hey, isn't he that boy? Your partner?"

A giggle. "Yeah, that's him. Where has he been? It's not like him to disappear like that, unless, you know…" A yelp as a short-haired girl dressed in blue whispered something.

"We haven't seen you for so long. Can't you say something to us?"

Rikuo didn't say anything; didn't move; didn't look. Kazahaya inwardly sighed. This was becoming habit; he was getting accustomed to it, even if the girls didn't. They hadn't seen Rikuo like this. The last time they saw Rikuo, he stood tall and strong, quiet and knowledgeable in the ways of a clerk. Not like this – not like this frightened, broken, and lost…thing…without direction, without reassurance, without hope. He saw the exchanged glances, the confusion and felt the disconnect. Knew it in the silence.

Knew, that, no matter what, Rikuo wasn't saying a word. Wasn't going to turn around; was going to stay there, remembering until both good and bad meshed together. Until the memories jarred against each other, painted white and black, forming grays. The other boy wanted to forget and couldn't; had come down here, looking and reflecting on a life once had and lost. Held the worth of it in his hand and as a sign of his helplessness, had dropped it.

An end to this. An end to a beginning.

Kazahaya couldn't let it end like that. Wouldn't.

"He's sick," he offered forth as truth and it wasn't entirely a lie. "It's been a rough winter." Only he and Rikuo need know the underscored emphasis of the words. Pale colors whitewashing harsher ones. An expedient lie. There were some things no one else needed to know.

"Oh, he is?"

"But you have medicine, right? Can't he take some?"

"He has. It's just been harder for him." Not an untruth, this one. Prior to everything, Rikuo was the one with the stronger constitution. No longer. "So please, leave him alone. Are you buying anything? I can ring you up."

"Oh, it's okay. I gotta get going anyway. I have cram school later on tonight."

"You do, Yuki-chan? Which one?"

"Wait! I have chocolate! I want to make sure Masayuki gets it!" It was obvious from the medium-sized cellophane wrapped package that she thought highly of this boy. "Just give me a minute to…"

It always took forever for girls to dig through their purses. "Take your time." The nice smile back on his face. Customers paid and the payment went towards his paycheck. Besides, now that he'd diverted them from Rikuo – who still hadn't budged – he could afford to relax a little. He'll have plenty of time later on to pry Rikuo away from his troubles, let alone the shelf. He could guess what Rikuo was going through. Having ten or so blushing and yammering girls couldn't be helping that.

"Ah, I'm short!"

"Haruko, you sure? I have some extra yen. How much do you need?"

"A hundred." Haruko wrinkled her nose; it was amusing. "Only two hundred, ai!"

"Are you sure you're working hard enough? You've never run out of money."

"Natsume, be quiet."

He'd kept his head lowered, watching the commotion in the front, so when he felt the first twinges of something wrong, Kazahaya snapped his head up. Did so and whitened. This sensation…this feeling…a lone girl – Did she just walk in? Was she part of the group? – was right beside Rikuo, who'd stiffened. From here, he glimpsed the taut lines of his body; the straightened plane of his shoulders. A hand on the small of his back – the girl's – wandering downward.

It was inappropriate. It wasn't right. It was…

Kazahaya slammed the cash register closed, rattling the inside and the coins. Dashed away from behind the counter, already closing the distance between him and the girl and Rikuo. Felt eddies of power swirl heavily around him, reminding him of Rikuo shouting and glass breaking. Of Green Drugstore's top levels almost demolished. That was bad. This was worse. This was…

"_Leave him alone!"_

A shrill scream perforated the air. Shattering of something behind him. The sound of feet and the scramble of bodies heading towards the entrance. The break room door slamming open, swinging on its hinges and Saiga lumbered out. Kakei-san still out running personal errands. When will he be back? Items rattling, skittering off the shelves – some smashing and spilling its contents – and he grabbed a hold of the girl's wrist, yanking her hand away. Glared at her.

"_What are you doing?"_

Had to scream. Had to above the noise and the angry beat in his chest.

She seemed to awaken, snapping out of a reverie, as if noticing for the first time that the situation was quickly careening out of control. A quaver in her voice. Good. "I…didn't mean to…he seemed lonely…"

"So you go and _touch_ him?" Unfair – she didn't know but still…Rikuo… "Get out of here! Now!" Without a backwards glance, she was gone. A bottle skidded precariously above him; he moved out of the way just in time. Glass smashing to pieces, to shards beside him and shampoo oozing blue and viscous onto the floor. The tin of lip gloss, discarded, lying next to Rikuo's shoes.

He raised his head.

Rikuo hadn't moved. Was rigid; shaking. His arm trembled. His fist was clenched tight. Oh gods, no. "Rikuo?" Didn't touch him; didn't dare to, after how that nameless girl had done so. Rikuo was on the verge of breaking, of snapping, and around him, things continued to fall. To smash and shatter; to be ruined and destroyed. In open daylight. Psychic signatures. Two organizations. Tsukiko. Toshiya. This had to stop. Had to stop now.

"_Rikuo, please!"_

It was as if something brittle snapped. Before he was aware, Rikuo had ripped away from the shelf, his face a study of horror and started for the entrance. He was fast – faster than before – and although the boy was ill and weak, Rikuo's strides quickened and lengthened until the boy was in a full run. Dashed straight past Saiga-san, who stopped halfway in slamming the roller door down; without a pause, Rikuo slipped through, out of their grasp.

"Oi, boy! Stop!"

"Saiga-san?" The open whiteness and the empty quietness of the outside world. Rikuo… "Please, let me go find him."

The older man's expression was grim. "Hurry! Watch your back!"

He was out.

Kazahaya ran, using every muscle in his body to hasten his speed. Rikuo…Rikuo…oh why? Why now? Why during the day? Why when people were around – and they _were_ glancing at him as he tore past, skidding in the snow – and leaving yet another signature of his presence? At Green Drugstore, nonetheless. An open beacon. Why? Why did that girl have to touch Rikuo like that? Why did she have to…cause all of this? Tears in his eyes and frustration and worry pounding and aching in his chest and the people blurred beside him as he raced by.

He couldn't call Rikuo's name. Can't. Didn't want to leave an evident trail.

Toshiya. His men. The flinches, the shudders, the aversion to touch. To intimacy. Oh gods, why, oh why oh why?

Where could Rikuo run off to, panicked and terrified like that? The other psychic's face had taken them both back to the memories. To the room and the four walls and suddenly, it became clear why Rikuo ran before the roller door shut him in and things were a mess and…. Kazahaya picked up his pace, passed a high concrete wall and found his steps leading him in a familiar direction. Found trampled snow, flung wildly and large footprints turning into holes and he followed them, knowing where Rikuo disappeared off to. The closest place – a place to hide; a place where double truths and wishes were revealed – and once a special cat led them, taking them to a place full of childlike wonder.

The park.

This time, going the longer route, he understood why it took Rikuo so long to catch up with him. He'd conveniently taken some shortcuts before, scaling the wall and climbing under brush and shrub. He'd no such luck this time and the footprints, sloppy and angled – even resulting in a sprawl – led him without trouble towards his destination. Towards Rikuo's destination. His heart clenched and he remembered the tenseness of Rikuo's fist.

_Please don't let him break. Please don't._

The silence was eerie. It was afternoon, the park was remote and vacant, and the sun shone overhead. A cold light and a cold wind. His steps stilled; Kazahaya stopped. Allowed himself to pause, to gather his thoughts and his condensing breath. Had to because if he didn't, he'd weep. He followed the trail left unthinkingly for him, trudging through white and without saying a word, came up behind Rikuo, whose fingers were locked around the large metal climbing play piece. Snow was caked over his jeans and his jacket and his bent posture was so broken…shattered.

"Rikuo," he said, soft and gentle. Heat pricking his eyes. "Please."

The other youth – his friend, his co-worker, his partner – shuddered hard, grip fastening firmer onto the icy steel bars. Rikuo hadn't slept for hours, was exhausted…was holding on, as if afraid of letting go. Afraid to do anything. "Rikuo…"

"Do you know what they did to me?"

First words in three days. A voice scratchy from disuse; honed by pain. His heart jolted, pieces falling in place and when he spoke, Kazahaya heard himself quaver. "What…what did they do to you?"

"They…" The trembling worsened. "They held me down…ripped my shirt off. I tried to fight…they held me and…" Rikuo's knuckles were angular, sharp and jutting blue-white. "…it hurt so badly and when she touched me, I thought…I thought…"

"Rikuo…"

"I thought it was happening all over again…like they were there. I couldn't…I can't…"

"Rikuo…how many?"

"Eight." The words were bleak. Gray. "They…they told me…afterwards…" A wince, anguished and Rikuo's head dipped, leaning against the cold bars. His skin was white. "It took two hours…and they…he…he wasn't done, yet. I…they left me bleeding and it wasn't over…I couldn't…"

"Rikuo." Kazahaya trudged nearer, careful not to broadside him. "It…it's not your fault."

"I couldn't do anything about it. It…it was the first time."

"Rikuo?" Uncomprehending or was it that he didn't want to understand because his stomach roiled when he thought about it? "What…?"

"It was the first time they raped me."

Shock. Silence. Rikuo's eyes closed; cheekbone gaunt against the cold metal. The fact of it settling, soul-deep – jarred his foundations and his stability. "When…when did that happen?"

"Three days after the first." The first assault. The first of everything. Oh gods, Rikuo…. "I panicked…lost control." Acid in the words, self-deprecating. "Broke certain things…not the door…they broke me…and I..." A wracking shudder, reaching deep. "I broke."

"Rikuo..."

"And she...she was..." Fingers sliding down the weatherworn surface. "...lost to me. I couldn't help her...she's gone."

"Who?" He knew. Was afraid. "Who, Rikuo?"

The fingers completing their descent, falling away at the bracketed metal joint. Rikuo leaned into the structure, as if weary and losing balance. Losing everything. A weight, pressing hard. No longer rigid but the wasted hours were catching up and Kazahaya couldn't help but notice the swaying of his body. Saw that the other hand held tight, recovering the slack. Saw that his eyes were still shut and that Rikuo was very ill.

The boy's mouth shaped the word.

"Tsukiko."

Fear, real and cold, seized his gut. Kazahaya braved another step, until he could see the frozen tears in Rikuo's lashes. He was extremely close – had to be careful. Rikuo couldn't see him but if he reached out, he could touch him. He wanted to. Instead, gazing upward, he fixed the memory of that beloved face – pale and soul-sick – and anchored it into his mind. Remembered it, because it was important.

Because no one else would.

"Rikuo...I'm sorry."

Quiet in the empty park, except for the both of them and Rikuo didn't answer him. For a moment, at least, the absence of sound lingered. He let that moment stay. Had to because it was Rikuo's. He couldn't infringe on that.

Didn't want to.

"I...I thought...I thought I couldn't break anymore and..."

"Rikuo," and this time, he did touch him, laying his smaller hand on top of his. Felt the immediate recoil, the terrified flinching, and snapped his hand back so that his elbow hovered in midair. Stared at his friend, into his dilated eyes, and bits and pieces of his heart ground itself to dust, smashing emotions as readily as the objects in the store crashed and broke.

_Rikuo..._

"Kazahaya...I can't." A wince. "It's too hard."

"Rikuo?"

"I...I can't help you in the store." A laugh that hurt. "I don't belong there anymore. It's...I've broken too much, Kazahaya."

"You don't have to come back right away. I can do it by myself for some time."

"I don't think I can. I remembered, being there and...pretend I'm not there. Forget I was ever there before...with you...helping you out."

"Rikuo!"

"I broke too much," Rikuo said quietly, the impact of his words striking Kazahaya harder than if they'd been screamed or shouted at him. "I thought I broke as far as I could go. I...I was wrong."

Tears ran down his face, cooling in the knife-like wind. "You're letting Toshiya win, then. Him and his men...you're letting them win. You're letting them beat you. You're letting them, Rikuo!"

"It wasn't my choice." Rikuo's tortured gaze tormented him. "I didn't choose to break...I just...did. I...Tsukiko...I went in there...to save her." The other hand, covered with scars, loosening on the metal supports of the innocuous structure. Sliding downward. "I couldn't even do that. What good am I?"

Kazahaya had no response to that.

"You see – nothing much."

"That's not true. You're still Rikuo. You're still the one who rescued me."

"That was before." Nothing but pain in those features, welling in the dark dark green of those tear-filled eyes. "That was before I made my mistake. Before they beat me and raped me. Before they killed her. Look at me, Kazahaya. Do you think I can save you now, after what happened to her?"

"It can't be your fault. None of it is. Rikuo – it's not a mistake. You did what you thought was right. You didn't kill her."

"If I didn't go, she wouldn't have..."

"If you didn't go, she'll still be there and I'll be afraid to ask you questions. You'll still be thinking about her. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I didn't do anything right." Sorrow swept over Kazahaya upon hearing the self-imposed judgment. At how tired Rikuo was and how the conviction – unfair, all of it – must've torn at him for days. Rikuo had had too much time alone to think; he'd given him that time – those hours – and the pitiful sight before him fell to his knees, fingers finally slipping free. Scrambling down, he held Rikuo so that he wouldn't pitch face-first into the snow. Rikuo jolted in his arms, shaking, already showing the first signs of fear.

"It's okay, Rikuo." He wasn't Kakei-san or Saiga-san. He was Kazahaya. "I won't hurt you. No one's going to hurt you. It's okay."

"It doesn't go away."

"I'll be here. You know that. Rikuo, I'm sorry." A confession needed. "I didn't know it was so bad. I didn't know that you were fighting back all that time. I'm sorry."

"You did see something."

"Yes." He swallowed the tears aching in his throat. "I did."

"Kazahaya?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to sleep. Please...wake me up."

"Rikuo?" The boy's head pillowed against his shoulder. "Can you raise your shields?"

"What for?"

"I don't want to hurt you anymore. If you don't want me to see into your memories, I'll be okay with that. I...you've been hurt enough."

Silence.

"Rikuo?"

"Thank you, Kazahaya."

"Don't fall asleep, yet. I can't carry you back. Can you still walk?"

The soft sound of trodden snow. The older psychic turned, glimpsing the taller and broader figure of Saiga and the slighter one of Kakei approaching. Kazahaya swallowed. They'd probably followed them, only to stay back out of sight and out of mind when chancing upon his and Rikuo's conversation. Their moment together in the park. He glanced down. With or without his suggestion, Rikuo had fallen asleep. He looked peaceful.

"It's okay, kid. I'll carry him."

"I found out what happened, Kudou-kun. Are you all right?"

He smiled tenderly, finding it difficult to relinquish Rikuo over to Saiga-san. "I'm fine. Rikuo...I think he'll be all right, too, Kakei-san. It's just...it's been a tough week for him."

"He looks it." A sigh. "Come on, Kudou-kun. Let's go home. Saiga?"

"The boy's lightweight."

"I'll cover our tracks from here. Kudou-kun, go home and sleep. You both need rest."

Now that he thought about it, he did. "Did you hear anything?"

"No. We'll talk about it some other time, if you're willing to divulge the information. You reacted well, Kudou-kun. You deserve the rest. Take it."

"Yeah, boy. Let's go and put him back to bed. He'll be okay, you think?"

"I think he will, Saiga-san." He knew so. "I think he will."


	17. Muddied Ochre

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 17**

Shadow-thin and silent, Rikuo flinched when he touched him but said nothing. The police had been here, questioning and because the reports circulated around the fleeing young man, Kazahaya witnessed the incredible scrutiny Rikuo underwent. In the end, no blame was assigned for the wreckage downstairs but the encounter left both of them shaken. From what he understood, the girls had been frightened by the disturbance and some of their neighbors believed an earthquake underway. The fact that the supposed epicenter took place right in their drugstore lent cause for suspicion; therefore, bringing in the authorities.

Behind them, their forgotten plates of eggs and toast sat, rubbery and stale. They had no appetite left after what had occurred and beside him, Rikuo inclined his head, closing his eyes. "They'll make a report. It'll circulate...someone will hear about it. Someone will know." The boy's voice was soft and controlled; monotone and dull. "They'll find me. I know they will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"One of them...he's like us. He knew, Kazahaya. He knew what I was."

"Then why? Why didn't he –"

"And blow his own cover...reveal what he is?" Rikuo leaned into him, head tilting against his shirt, fatigued. "What good will that do him? He can't arrest me. But he knows and that's what I'm afraid of."

"But aren't police reports confidential?"

"Reports can be bought. People can be bribed. It's not that simple." From where he stood, Kazahaya could see the seam of Rikuo's mouth tighten. "He'll find me and..." He didn't need to hear the end of the sentence to know what Rikuo meant; the truth of it was apparent – spelled out in the scars and the heavy lines of exhaustion anchoring the boy to the chair. What did startle him was the sudden change in subject, shifting from generalization to Toshiya.

"He won't find you. I won't let him."

"Tell me, Kazahaya," Rikuo said, eyes open and clear, meeting his gaze. "That night, when you found me...how long did it take for you to get there?"

"I...I don't know. Kakei-san just told me that we needed to get somewhere fast. I didn't pay attention to the time –"

"It takes an hour. On foot. By bus or train, less."

"They don't live far." The fact chilled him. "And you've released two signatures so far. Rikuo..."

"And you expect him not to find me? With his people...with _his_ men?" Beneath his hand, he felt Rikuo shiver. It was brief but strong and Rikuo quickly jerked away, snapping about to face him. "How can I be expected to 'start all over' again when he's still out there? When I know they're capable of killing the both of them and..." He dared not breathe; Rikuo did, sharply, staring at him with eyes lost in the shallow depths of his face. "Kazahaya, promise me something."

"What? Why?"

The other boy shook his head, scattering strands of hair. His expression was indecipherable. "When they come for me...no, listen to me," for Kazahaya opened his mouth, ready to protest, "you have to run. You and Saiga and Kakei...you can't let them get to you. It doesn't matter what happens to me..."

"Rikuo, you can't!"

"Promise me, Kazahaya! Promise me you'll run. I've already...I've already lost her and..."

There was no subtlety in that. "You're afraid to lose me. After her."

"You'll lose more. I can't let that happen."

"Rikuo, am I..." Another shape taking form; yet another facet uncovered and it glimmered cold and hard, brilliant but fatal. "...Am I involved in this? With you? What are you protecting me from?"

"Just promise me, Kazahaya. It's the only thing I can do –"

"And Saiga-san and Kakei-san. You remember them."

"Kazahaya," and the desperate grasp of Rikuo's voice caught at him, "_will you_?"

There wasn't anything he could say. Instead, because he needed to sit down, the older boy pulled his chair closer. Rikuo had fully turned around, hands gripping the sides of his chair until the muscles twitched and Kazahaya needed to think. Badly. It wasn't like Rikuo to sacrifice himself like this. Of course, in the past, Rikuo had saved him from drowning a poor man's death but that was because Rikuo was dependable. Rikuo could swim, unlike him and wouldn't send both of them sinking to a cold and quiet death. This was different. This was...suicide.

The order of things, of themselves in particular, had changed. If Rikuo protected him now, it meant a death. And the scary aspect of it was that Rikuo already knew the price and was willing to pay it. A slow death – no water, no unconsciousness, no mercy granted – and all so that he, Kazahaya Kudou, could escape. Without looking back, without extending a hand to help because the other boy asked it of him. _Promise me, Kazahaya!_

Could he promise that, knowing the cost?

"Kazahaya," and it was as if Rikuo read his mind, "I've already decided."

In other words, it was out of his hands. That and something else.

"It's not the only choice you can make, Rikuo."

"It's the only one left to me." A surrender. A loss declared. "Will you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

A faint smile, fractured. "I meant what I said about protecting you. You can only run. I...I can only do my best, which isn't much. They'll kill me before the end." A wound bleeding into the words that followed, dark and aware. "If not worse."

Kazahaya winced. "That doesn't leave me with much."

"You have more than I do."

"So do you, Rikuo. Start over again."

"With what?"

"What you normally do, I guess." A routine. Something simple. "You used to read the paper –"

"I can't. Not..." The sound of plastic scraping against concrete. Even if he hadn't been looking in Rikuo's direction, he would've known by the sound. Remaining seated, watching as Rikuo paced, hands jammed into oversized pockets, Kazahaya felt the silence solidify into a shield around his roommate. Had the sensation that a revelation was about to break, scattering upon them like the torn shreds of pictures. Of pain splintering like that of vicious rain. Something. "They never told me...after they killed her...I don't want to..."

"Rikuo, what is it?"

A shrug, so nonchalant that it betrayed. "It's better if you don't know, Kazahaya."

Perhaps Rikuo was right. Maybe this line of questioning, with its reply of cryptic and unfinished phrases, was beyond his understanding. And maybe, just maybe...he didn't want to know. Let it stay with Rikuo – whatever it was – if that was the case. If that was what Rikuo wanted. From his vantage point, seeing only the upright back of the other psychic – his partner, his family away from family – the fact was evident.

Brutal and hard to take, like poison to the throat, if one thought hard enough about it. "You're afraid to start over. Because she's dead. Because –"

"Because there are no choices for me."

"Rikuo..."

"Will you, Kazahaya?" Calm, quiet, composed and still. So like and unlike Rikuo. "Will you promise me what I've asked?"

There was no recourse for his pain; most certainly, he couldn't give it to Rikuo, who'd already suffered plenty and had it in abundance. To give consent, to set his word upon this promise – not like the one he'd sworn before and which was met with ironclad resistance – only guaranteed one thing: Rikuo would die. Painfully. Brutally. To consign Rikuo to this...no. _I've already decided. _No matter what he said or did, Rikuo would follow through. _It's the only one left to me._

Which left him. _Will you?_

He uncurled himself from his chair, moving as if through the sluggish flow of past and present, of memories and uncertain futures, of nightmares and blacker days and found himself beside Rikuo. Their conversation had shaped things, changed moods and empathy cut both ways, affecting him psychically and emotionally. He touched Rikuo on the arm; felt muscle jump and constrict but Rikuo didn't say anything. The look he received, though, undermined him with pity. It made him want to give Rikuo a hug.

"Kazahaya?"

"You had a nightmare last night, didn't you?"

"You knew?" A statement in the guise of a question. No answers were needed.

"The police...they shouldn't have come."

"It's not like they had a choice. Look at what I did."

"Rikuo?"

"Kazahaya?"

"Your promise. I'll...I'll keep it. But..."

Sorrow and resignation, tangible and keen, haunted that single gaze and remembrances of a better time flitted across the other's face. It was similar to watching a mirror break or a stone sinking into water, leaving ripples behind. Rikuo, he realized, had readied and braced himself, expecting nothing less but failure and disappointment. "It's okay."

"Rikuo?"

"Yes?"

"I'm involved in this, right?"

"Don't ask that of me, Kazahaya." Rikuo's voice was brusque. "Don't."

He didn't.


	18. Mirrored Obsidian

LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

_Author's Comments: Another toughie but eased over with some gaming, reserved brain space, and listening to Metal Gear Solid 4 music for days on end. XD_

**CHAPTER 18**

This time, he's the one who's dreaming. If Rikuo had any nightmares, he wasn't aware of them. In his sleep haze – the world where past and present merge and offer imaginings beyond comprehension – he sees himself as a child again. It starts off familiar, with him sleeping under a tree thick and green with leaves. The sun's shining, casting dappled blue shadows on the grass, his shirt, his skin, and his hair. A light cool breeze passes over him, ruffling folds and inducing mild goosebumps.

It's a beautiful day.

Like déjà vu, his sleeping self knew what would happen next. He's had this dream before. Kei, his sister – his twin – comes over the hill, dressed in her pretty purple kimono. They talk and the conversation turns from lighthearted to serious, as his sister snuggles next to him and tells him her fears. The main one, she's told him time and time again, is that he'll vanish. She's afraid of that because of his name. Like the wind, he'll slip from their grasp, from the grounds where he lives and once gone, untraceable.

It's not something Kei can bear. He knows it.

So, he consoles her. Tells her that he won't leave, if only for her sake. His sleeping self is aware of that lie, because he does leave. He leaves and never turns back, even if guilt keeps him remembering her and those days in the sunshine and grass on the Kudou estates. But the dream moves forward, irrevocably, and suddenly, she's the older one, holding his face in her hands. He remains young, wide-eyed by her transformation.

It's not a pretty one.

Kei is older, years beyond his imagination and there's a light in her eyes bordering on sinister. He's never seen her like this before and it scares him. Her hair's the same pale shade of brown. Her eyes are still green; yet, darker and intense, like the leaves shadowed by other leaves. He's suddenly cold, seeing her gaze that pins him so that he must stare back and she smiles. Beautiful but chilling. A butterfly with ice as its heart. She moves slightly and a sweet tinkling of bells follows.

He remains still, unable to move. He does not know this creature.

She speaks. Her voice is mature, rich, and soft. It's deceptive and each word is like a string laid by a spider. Ensnared, he can only listen. "Then promise me. Promise me that at my side...I'll always have my sweet brother." She – Kei, he has to remind himself as young boy and older self – extends a hand, pinky finger hooked.

He's never sure if he agrees. All he remembers is the warmth of the sun and the greenery around him. The breeze drifts past, carrying him away from it all.

* * *

It's Rikuo's strangled cries that awake him, throwing him from one dreamscape to the next. Kazahaya doesn't remember much but the sensation of his feet against the cool floor, his hand closing around Rikuo's, and how hard the other boy's fingers clench around his. How loud the other's voice is, breaking into gasps and half-sobs. At how his world shifts and changes, dwindles and expands from the grass and sweet smell of spring to the ice-cold chill and rancid stench of steel and blood and things kept secret – revolting; always kept encaged in the dark.

* * *

_His voice is hoarse, scraped raw from his protests and screams and they throw him aside. It's as if he sees himself from the outside, sprawling in an uneven heap, streaking blood behind him. He can't move his arms; his hands refuse to obey him and his fingers uncurl. He's weak and everything hurts and he closes his eyes because she's there. Someone kicks him, hard, and he cries out because it hurts so badly. Sniggering and he wants to die._

_Someone grabs his hair, raises his head, and strikes him across the face so that his lip splits. "Open your eyes, boy." He knows this voice, knows who it is, and inside of him, he does die. A second blow, so hard that his cheek swells. "Goddamn it, open your eyes, worthless little fuck!" He wants to die, to disobey, to kill the man beating him but it's out of his hands. One eye is swollen and his mouth is dry. A third slap, and he hears her gasp. Cry out his name._

_He can't say anything._

_She screams and he tries to reach out but Toshiya's boot grinds his wrist to the floor. "Rikuo!" She's crying and he can't do anything because the pain's too much. He can't think. There's blood beneath his knees and he swallows some when Toshiya hits him and he bites his tongue. A blur, everything...and he vomits, bringing up nothing. His stomach aches; twists and stabs him inside and he doesn't want to think about the mess they've made of him._

_In front of her._

_She cries out his name again. Someone snarls. She screams. He opens his eyes at that but it's too late. He can't scream or cry. There are no tears left. She falls and falls and there's blood everywhere. She's too close to him, still and it sprays onto him, hot and heavy and sickening, so that it crawls. He throws up, retching, unable to remove the smell of her and his fingers draw lines of red on the floor. On his skin._

_Murmuring and cruel laughter. He can't see anything but her. The gaping gash in her throat. Tsukiko, he tries to say but his throat closes and he chokes on the tears he can no longer shed. Tries to reach out for her...wants to touch her...but it hurts to move and he's so tired. Different fingers in his hair, in him but he can only think of her lying there and it doesn't matter what they do to him anymore._

_"Quiet bitch, isn't he, now?"_

_His throat aches...she's lying there...he's failed her...agony bursts him open, tears him to meat and bone...think of her...his screams turn inward...why...why...why? Hands on him...it doesn't matter...Tsukiko...blood...so much blood...screams...are they his...she's dead...he's...he's..._

_Shuddering, he goes still. Listens. He cannot speak._

_Blood drying on his knees, in his hair. A bruise darkening on his wrist. Tsukiko, in blood and he...tearing, torn, broken and shattered and the endless, remorseless sundering, knifing that hollows him and smashes him...breaking...merciless...thudding of bone against steel. He listens and all he hears are the echoes of his silent screams. His body quivers, writhes from the violence but he's looking at her and there's nothing left._

_She's dead and he's..._

_It no longer matters. Nothing does. He shuts his eyes. "That's enough," he hears someone say and he's lying there, bloodied and used. She's dead and she saw. Saw what he was...saw what he became. It's enough to make him cry but he can't and the smell of blood is so cloying, he feels like throwing up._

_That's when he smells rain and he knows it's not her._

* * *

The sweat beading the younger man's forehead was cool to the touch. Wrapping the comforter closer around himself, Kazahaya tugged at the corner of Rikuo's but the boy made no move to take it or push him away. Even now, in the dark with the city lights shining dim and hazy, he could see the downward curve of Rikuo's eyelids. It was hard to tell if he was asleep or halfway to it but the incident beforehand made that unlikely. If anything, Rikuo was awake and keeping to himself. And possibly, nauseous.

"Rikuo, are you...?"

A flicker through the eyelids. A slight opening of the mouth. He'd never expected to be here, on the rooftop post-Valentine's Day in his blankets braving the chill. Rikuo'd left him no choice, stumbling out here barefoot and ill. Gathering his wits and grabbing a few blankets, he'd gone after him, forfeiting shoes. The toilet could be flushed later. What he worried about was Rikuo throwing up his dinner. Besides the time when he tried re-introducing Rikuo to food, he'd never known Rikuo to have a bad stomach.

And there was that dream. No. Two dreams.

"Rikuo," he said and assayed to hold his hand. Immediately jerked it back – _so much blood...she saw..._ – and shuddered. Wiped his fingers clean, even if they weren't stained. From his dream to that...that horror. Why was Tsukiko killed? Why was...? Kazahaya snapped his mind shut; barred that inner voice from asking its questions. No. No. He didn't want to know why in regards to Rikuo. He didn't want to know _what_ they exactly did to him in front of Tsukiko. Or why Rikuo...

Silence. Too much of it. He knew what that meant.

He'd thought that, too, would subside.

"Rikuo, are you all right?" In response, the other psychic shivered, worming deeper into the blankets offered. Not a word was spoken and from the looks of it, Rikuo heard him but was far beyond his reach. Lost inside his nightmares, most likely. Something about this one chilled Kazahaya. There had been violence and degradation in the others as well but the complete brutality and efficiency of it all – that was part of it – shocked him. It was worse than Yoshiro's torture with glass and although he didn't know the half of the trauma inflicted on Rikuo by Toshiya and his thugs, he knew that it killed Rikuo.

Not in the actual sense, no. But Tsukiko was murdered and Rikuo...

Rikuo had lost everything in that moment.

That was what Rikuo told him when he could speak again. That he was dying and he, being slower at the time and understanding less, took that literally. Whereas, ever since Toshiya laid his hands on Rikuo and allowed his men to do the same, Rikuo's dying took time. Never allowed a physical death – Eichiro, he remembered, had the responsibility of keeping Rikuo alive – Rikuo's death took different forms. Death to a fighting spirit. Death to a strong mind. Death to willpower to survive. Death to health.

The last, however, was the worst. Death to a loved one, which in turn, was death to ideal. Kazahaya had felt before, in other memories and other names spoken, how intense and obsessive Rikuo was about Tsukiko. Felt that desire about her – wasn't sure in what way; yet, was aware of it by how strained Rikuo looked if he'd mentioned family. There was that one time when he overheard Saiga-san telling Rikuo about finding something – _that_ had been interesting. Rikuo was furious and he had no idea why.

Now, he knew. Wished that he didn't.

Rikuo had gone searching for Tsukiko, only to lose her right in front of his eyes.

It was the final act needed to destroy Rikuo. And Rikuo had...he'd given up. _I've lost everything._ No surprise, then, that he'd asked for death. Had asked bitterly, right to his and Saiga-san's face about why they didn't leave him to die in an empty alleyway. Kazahaya glanced at the curled form huddled next to him. Rikuo had let someone abuse him because nothing else mattered. Because the sole reason for his life was dead only a couple feet away from him. Because Rikuo was weak, injured, and heartbroken, chastising himself for a failure that wasn't any of his fault. It was a death to both sides, if he, Kazahaya, wanted to see it from that angle.

It was true. Both had died on that same day. In the same hour and minute. But only one truly died while the other suffered a living death. The cruelest torture imaginable.

No wonder Rikuo craved death so badly.

His eyes having adjusted to the dim midnight light of the city, Kazahaya looked again at Rikuo. Saw his hands clenched around the comforter, gripping, and the slight sheen of the whites of his eyes. It was too dark to see green. "Rikuo?" It was silent but the expression on the boy's face wasn't like that dead, empty mask that he'd witnessed all too often. Scooting a bit closer, he got a better glimpse.

This wasn't any normal illness. _The smell of blood is so cloying..._

"Rikuo, why did they...?"

Eyes shifted towards him and then away. Rikuo wasn't replying but this time, Kazahaya got a sense it had nothing to do with him. None of the blame was pinned on him. Instead, the silence stemmed from Tsukiko's sudden and shocking death, which from the nightmare, was ever present in Rikuo's mind. Vivid, with emotion and all senses alert – astonishing, considering the amount of pain – and all of it too much to bear. He had enough trouble processing the entire dream without becoming ill.

How had Rikuo managed, since that time, to function with that in his head?

Living death. He had no idea what that felt like. Next to him, Rikuo seemed content to remain the night here, instead of sleeping in his bed in the warmth. Another set of closed walls. Rikuo had been thrown aside to land on the floor, mistreated in front of Tsukiko. She had screamed for him. He could still hear her voice resounding in his head through the memory. She'd screamed over and over until her throat was cut.

For Rikuo. For someone no longer capable of defending either her or himself.

It was a damning memory. He felt the hurt and despair and self-loathing that drowned the minutes of it in a slow, ever-rising tide. Rikuo must've been going mad with that image – blood everywhere in pools of red – and attempting to brave through it just because...because Rikuo was Rikuo, broken or not. Tonight, for whatever reason, was the limit Rikuo could take. It brought to mind many hysterical nights when Rikuo blabbered incoherently about knives, blood, and Tsukiko.

A woman in the center of it all, splashed scarlet.

Why hadn't he seen it sooner? Followed his gut instinct?

"Don't ask me. I don't want to remember. I want to forget it all." A thin voice, as brittle as its speaker. The blankets were pulled in closer, held tighter, and Rikuo's eyes were pale in his face. "You shouldn't have looked."

"I didn't mean to –"

"I know you didn't."

A girl dead. A boy, almost a man, who should've died long ago. Assailants who should die, because they'd ruined two lives. All for what? What was the reason behind murdering Tsukiko? For torturing Rikuo in front of her? Why all the excessive brutality in that moment? What did this incident lead up to? And why did Rikuo...

Why did Rikuo smell rain? Indoors, nonetheless?

"Rain?" he asked, as if to no one. "But you were inside, weren't you?"

No answer.

How did that come into play? And what about his own dream? It was the second time he dreamt it and both times, it startled him. Kei was supposed to be cheerful, curious, and concerned. Not obsessive or creepy, with eyes the color of a cat's or with the expression of one on the prowl, hunting. Was he the prey in that dream? It could easily turn into a nightmare, if that was the case. He didn't want that. He didn't want that to become reality.

Rain. Why did that remind him of something?

"Rikuo, we can't sleep up here. It's still too cold."

"It doesn't matter to me anymore." Rikuo's eyes were shut. "You can go back."

_He doesn't want to return downstairs, back to the apartment._ "I can't leave you here. Saiga-san and Kakei-san will kill me if anything happens to you."

"It doesn't..."

"I know. Since she died." If Rikuo was going to be evasive, he'll work his way around that. "But you survived. You escaped. If you wanted to die, why would you...?"

Who or what could've given Rikuo a motive to live after all that? The Rikuo in that nightmare had already surrendered and tossed his life away because of Tsukiko's death. Tsukiko was crucial to Rikuo's wellbeing and with her out, it was simple. There was nothing left to live for, unless someone or something else mattered. But there was no one else at that time in Rikuo's mind – just a blank slate blotted by blood.

So when did those mentioned "green eyes" become important?

"I didn't escape because I wanted to." _What?_ "I escaped because someone helped me to."

"Who?"

"Someone who couldn't tolerate seeing me like that."

That could only mean one person. "Was it Eichiro?" The one who tended to Rikuo, who cursed Toshiya, and knew Rikuo better than he did in certain ways. "What did he say to you?"

"Things."

"How did he without being..."

"He's good at what he does." A sigh. "I hope he's safe."

_No more blood shed at your expense, you mean. Not so soon after Tsukiko. Are you afraid I'll be added to the tally, too?_ "Well, if I meet him, I'll thank him."

"You don't want to meet him. I don't." A slight shift in the blankets. Another development, here. Why wouldn't Rikuo want to...? "It's bad news if you see him now."

"Why?"

No response. They had speculated that a possible third party was involved. Could that be Eichiro's part in this? What role did he play, besides watching over Rikuo's health? He didn't seem to support either side – Toshiya or Yoshiro – and now, knowing that he'd assisted in Rikuo's escape, pointed to an entirely different agenda. There had to be other reasons for that, besides perfect altruism and a strong distaste for abusive acts. That, too, was a mystery to be solved.

Many of those, it seemed.

"Did you always have a weak stomach?"

Laughter that cut. Kazahaya winced to hear it. "Only recently."

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Rikuo."

Silence. Beat. Beat. Beat. "That's not the only reason why." Rikuo grimaced, twisting his features and Kazahaya glimpsed the tautness of his cheekbones. The downward turn of his mouth. "Ask Saiga if you want to know. I'm sure he'll give you the details."

"It's not something I want to know, do I?"

"No."

"Oh." This time, he was quiet. Contemplative. Looking at Rikuo and seeing the tension fraught in his face. Dark in his eyes. The bones of his healed hands jutting under the surface of skin. The scars were starting to fade – some of the smaller ones – leaving behind shrunken raised lines of flesh. As for the others like the lacerations, those were darker; would always be. The bruises on Rikuo's face and arms were gone but the ones on his chest and lower extremities continued to discolor and disappear.

It had been a month and a half.

"How...how badly did they...?"

"Enough." A familiar expression – one that he didn't like seeing. "Almost couldn't walk out of there."

"But you did, didn't you?"

"Eichiro helped." Was that all he was going to get? "Not going to let me die in there, he said. Had no choice. None of us did."

The same mantras repeated ad nauseam. No choices. It doesn't matter. Kazahaya let them slide, unwilling to argue with Rikuo over them. They weren't trivial but tackling Rikuo's entrenched mindset was going to take patience. He couldn't go flying into it expecting miracles or blurting out niceties and demanding that Rikuo change overnight. Tsukiko was dead, savagely murdered. Rikuo was here, with him, watching the stars – or not – and dying a slow death by the seconds. There was no room in their world for miracles or untainted hope.

He felt that shadow just as well as Rikuo did.

"It's getting colder, Rikuo." Kazahaya pulled his comforter, curling it snugly around him. He couldn't sleep out here – the chill would kill him. "We need to go back."

"I can't."

Right. The goddamn walls. Rikuo's mind was still stuck there, trapped in that memory. Sweat-soaked sheets. A toilet that needed to be flushed. Where else could they go? Not downstairs, since the store was wrecked and he didn't want his foot sliced open by glass. He also didn't want to bring Rikuo into the ruins of his making, accidental or not. The burden of guilt was already stronger than he'd liked. Adding to it would crumble the foundations of whatever strength Rikuo was using not to collapse.

By no means did Kazahaya wish to accelerate his death.

"Rikuo," he said, gauging every word, "what if you slept in the kitchen or by the front door?"

"It's still..."

_Still too close to his reality, perhaps. Damn._ "What if I asked Saiga-san to help us set up something here?"

"He'll do that?"

He blinked. He'd never thought Rikuo would ask such a question. "I'm sure he will." _I hope he sees the humor in me waking him up this late._ "After all, Saiga-san's surprised me before. Knitting, cooking – what else can he do?"

"Other things."

It was a Rikuo-esque statement. To the point, without detail, and vague, as if expecting him to figure it out on his own. Fortunately, he already knew what "other things" Saiga-san did when he wasn't sleeping. A lot of it was keeping them safe and alive. It was also keeping Rikuo's whereabouts as secretive as possible, despite the major setbacks Rikuo's destructive abilities unleashed. He only hoped Saiga-san wouldn't think him mad if he suggested a temporary camping ground on the rooftop.

For Rikuo. He had to remember that. Everything was for Rikuo.

"Come on." Kazahaya offered a hand; hoped that Rikuo's mental shields were up. It wouldn't do for him to relapse back into the same memory. "We'll be back here shortly."

Rikuo's fingers engulfed his, which was comforting. His roommate still stood taller than him, even with that slouch in his shoulders and that, too, was reassuring. If some things never changed, at least he knew where his foundation was. Funny how that worked. But without Kei – _try to forget that person in the dream_ – Rikuo was the only other person he could rely on. Someone exactly his age. It all made sense even more now that everything's twisted and tangled.

This time, there's no snow or ice.

"I'll get something for your stomach tomorrow, Rikuo."

"You don't have to."

The smell of rain. The charnel reek of death and blood. "I want to."

Silence. It has a different vibe to it. Rikuo squeezes his hand slightly and in that extraordinary way, he understands. Communication without words. He knows without looking back; without reading Rikuo's face. Was it like this between Saiga-san and Kakei-san?

"No problem, Rikuo."


	19. Turbulent Opal

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 19**

Kazahaya sat down, placed his crumpled apron behind him, and waited. Knotting his hands together, weaving his fingers; he watched as other fingers stretched down towards him, black beginning to bleed from blue and violet as the lights around Green Drugstore flicked on. They made halos in the encroaching darkness – some whitish-blue and others a harsh yellow. Beneath him, shadows merged with the walls and vanished. Calm silence descended like velvet, without the sibilant whisper of silk.

"Rikuo?" he asked, rippling that quiet. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You don't look okay," Kazahaya said, studying the intense and fever-bright gaze burning in Rikuo's eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is."

"But you wouldn't be sitting here, then." Tonight was another chilly evening and Rikuo was barefoot. "You know I come back around this time. Are you...afraid of something?"

Slender fingers locked and undid themselves, untangling an intricate pattern that he couldn't see. The cuff of Rikuo's sleeve pulled down, revealing a ring of dense scar tissue. "I think you know the answer to that."

"What are you scared of, Rikuo?"

"If I told you, would it matter?" A smile that buried a knife-edge of pain. "Would it make any difference, if you knew?"

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"You don't need to know everything, Kazahaya." Rikuo didn't look at him. "I wouldn't want you to."

"Rikuo..." His hand settled cautious and light on the other boy's arm but there was no response other than dark eyes shutting him out. As it was, Kazahaya knew something was amiss. It was his discovery of it that instead, took him by surprise.

* * *

It was the sound of voices from the back when he returned from lunch that drew his attention. They'd been adding the final touches and repairs to Green Drugstore after Rikuo's meltdown, hoping to re-open before March ushered in spring and took the girls away during the Doll's Festival. Saiga-san had been doing some electrical wiring, while Kakei-san and he swept away the broken glass, eviscerated plastic bottles, and dented tins of gloss. A few days before, he'd been on his knees, scrubbing away at the stubborn stains of lotion and liquid soap. Because of his good work, he'd been paid early, given a break, and told to go enjoy himself.

That, he did. Kazahaya found it easy to do just that. It also made it easier for him to pick up where he'd left off. That should've been his first display in days, which involved several small containers of spray-on perfume, his nerves, and one gaudy cardboard cutout which needed assembling. He always hated that.

As it turned out, he never got to it until later.

Whether he had sharp ears or was a natural eavesdropper, he immediately heard a third voice from the back. Rikuo's voice, which was a bit higher than Saiga's and deeper than Kakei's light timbre. Surprised and more than a little curious, Kazahaya tiptoed towards the break room. Since the door was shut – _intriguing_ – he flattened himself against the wall, pressing his shoulder against the frame and listened. Now that he was closer, the murmuring took shape and he could make out words.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner, Rikuo? We might have done something."

"What can you do?" Silence. "I just need those. I don't need –"

"If we'd known earlier, boy, we would've taken you to the hospital. Maybe we need to do that, just in case."

"_No!"_ He heard Rikuo shout, panicked. "Don't. I don't want to."

"I don't want to see you addicted, boy. When did it start?"

"Two days ago." Kazahaya could almost see the incline of Rikuo's head as the heavy silence hung. He was used to these lapses by now. "I didn't...it happened so fast."

"Rikuo, if it gets worse, nothing we give you will help."

"It's okay. I'll –"

"Have you told Kazahaya yet?" Kakei-san. What were they talking about and what wasn't Rikuo telling him? "He should know, Rikuo."

"He doesn't have to."

Pause. "That might be a mistake, boy."

Kazahaya winced.

For a moment, there were no sounds from the other side. He could easily slip away, hide in the supply compartment near the counter, and none of them would know. If they had, wouldn't they keep their voices down? Wouldn't they keep all of this information away from him? But they didn't know that he stood here, trying to figure out the clues and coming up empty-handed. Whatever they were speaking about, he'd missed the beginning of it.

It also hurt to realize that Rikuo completely left him in the dark. Whatever it was, it sounded serious. Hadn't they mentioned a possible hospital visit? What did that mean?

"A mistake." Too late for him to move; Kazahaya shuddered at the dead tone in Rikuo's voice. "I've been making a lot of those lately, haven't I?"

"I wouldn't say that..."

"Then what have _I_ been doing?" Anger now. "Trying to save her by myself was a big one, wouldn't you say? Or is that what you're thinking, Kakei?"

"Don't snap at him, boy. He's done nothing to you."

"I nearly tore down your damn store. A mistake. 'Lost control', you said. That's all I've been doing, isn't it? Tearing down your damn place. Breaking everything you have. Making mistakes. Isn't that right, Saiga? That's all I've been doing, isn't it?"

"No, boy. You know that's not true."

"Then what is? You think I want to be like this?" Footsteps, pacing all too quickly. "You think I wanted to be that bastard's fuck toy? To have them do those...things...to me?"

"Rikuo, calm down."

The pacing stopped. "Or maybe my mistake was letting them do that to me. Couldn't stop them, could I? Couldn't do anything about Tsukiko, could I?"

"Rikuo, what are you saying?"

"She's dead."

No response. Kazahaya swallowed hard, picturing in his mind the stunned faces of his boss and Saiga-san. None of them knew; only Rikuo told him. Only Rikuo let him know the fate of Tsukiko. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone else, yet. The cold finality behind Rikuo's voice stamped an end to the conversation. Maybe now was the time to move. He didn't want to be caught by any of them on their way out.

"Boy, you realize that none of it is your fault?"

"Then what is?"

"Rikuo," and Kakei's voice lanced through the anger and weariness, cutting gently into an open wound, "were you forced to witness it?"

"I...I don't want to..."

"It's okay. Take your time. You don't have to tell us right now."

_Time to move, Kazahaya._ Tiptoeing out until the voices once again were indecipherable, Kazahaya tucked himself into the supply compartment, shivering. Rikuo hadn't spoken to him about that incident, either and from the sounds of it, neither Kakei-san nor Saiga-san would know any more than he already did. The memory stirred, awful, bloody, and shameful and he knew why Rikuo kept that from them._ It's not only his inaction that shames him – it's what was done to him. It's what she saw. What he remembers told me as much._

And the anger...

Never, since he'd been here, had he heard Rikuo raise his voice to them. Not to Kakei-san. And definitely not to Saiga-san, who probably understood the other psychic just as well as he did. Rikuo's recollection was chilling, pinpoint accurate and the barb thrown couldn't have been aimed at anyone else but the man in shades. How Saiga-san withstood it, he'd never know. Kazahaya was glad he wasn't in the room, watching the one-sided exchange turn poisonous.

It was bad enough from outside.

As for Rikuo...what was wrong with him? Why wasn't he...?

He heard the slap-slap-slap of bare feet before Rikuo walked into his line of sight. From where he stood, hidden within the shadowy interior of the compartment, Kazahaya glimpsed the lanky and slight form stop. Rikuo stared out into brightness, as if blind and it was the expression on his face that lodged an invisible blade and wrenched it deep inside Kazahaya's heart. What, if anything, could he do against that?

It was a look of futility staring into inevitability. It was a look of despairing acceptance, holding out everything in both hands in compliant surrender. It was the look of a young man blinking in the sunlight, fighting back tears.

Worse than that – it was the look of a man ready to die.


	20. Kaleidoscope

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 20**

"Rikuo," Kazahaya said, slipping into the chair by the other boy's bedside. "Kakei-san told me to give you these." Palming the canister of pills in his jacket pocket, the worried brunet fished it out. Rikuo's hand lay open, translucent in the mix between artificial and natural light. "I don't know why you need these, Rikuo but Kakei-san told me not to worry." The skin of Rikuo's palm was soft, filmed a faint orange as sunlight fell upon the container and Kazahaya pulled his hand away, restoring it back to his pocket.

Kakei-san had given him painkillers; never mind the reason why. That confused Kazahaya and he didn't like being puzzled. Why would Rikuo need them if he was on the mend? After all, weren't those types of drugs meant for serious pain?

"Thanks, Kazahaya."

"It's all right, Rikuo." Rikuo's voice, deep as it was, sounded wan. It was apt, considering how Rikuo hadn't gotten up this morning and continued to lay in bed, surrounded by his sheets until it was pale upon pale. _That _concerned Kazahaya and then on top of it all, Kakei-san intercepted him downstairs and gave him the drugs. Had him go back upstairs, important delivery in tow, and as he watched Rikuo's fingers close around the canister, Kazahaya shivered.

Something was wrong – something – but he couldn't figure out what.

"Rikuo, are you okay?"

A sudden question, just like that and he wasn't sure what response he'll get. Rikuo looking at him and yet not, lines of exhaustion worn into his face. Had the other psychic even slept? He couldn't tell if last night was fraught with nightmares because he'd heard nothing but... But Rikuo had gotten good at slipping out at night without alerting him. Alone to fight a mental and emotional war that Kazahaya only knew from the periphery of memory. That would explain the silence, as well as the bluish shadows underneath intense green eyes.

It reminded him of something else as well. Something that Kakei-san told him to tell Rikuo. _He needs to know this. Let him know it's okay if he decides to sleep the entire day._ Not that it mattered to him but Rikuo...

"Do you want me to close the curtain? Block the window? Kakei-san said you can sleep as long as you like, Rikuo. If it makes you comfortable, I can –"

"It's okay." All too quiet. "You don't have to stay."

He didn't, in the end. However, he pulled the curtain, casting a block of emerald upon Rikuo's huddled form and using pieces of cardboard, covered the windows. He flicked off the lights, letting a cool darkness fall upon their shared space and just before he left, Kazahaya looked again at Rikuo's hand. The plastic canister lay in a loose grip, held on as if it would solve all the pain and turmoil and endless, soundless nights of agony.

* * *

When he went back downstairs, having completed Kakei-san's assigned task, his boss was nowhere to be seen. "He's running an errand of his own right now," their partner-in-crime said, opening the break room door and beckoning him inward with a tip of his head. "Come on in, kid. It's been a while since we've talked and some things have come up."

Saiga-san waited for him to be seated, sinking into the couch before shutting the door. This time, their positions reversed – Saiga-san standing while he sat, attentive and gazing upward – made the beginning of the conversation different. Not tense, sneaking with the same unease as when those photographs were first unveiled; yet, the balance was tipped. Or even and since they were in for a long talk, the other man gave him and his legs a much-needed rest. That was...nice. Especially for Saiga-san.

"First things first. You'll not that good of an eavesdropper. Normally, when you're doing those displays, you'll be cursing up a storm. We didn't hear that. Rikuo was too agitated to tell the difference but you can't fool us, kid. So, what did you hear?"

"A lot."

"Did you know about Tsukiko-san's death? Has he told you anything?"

"I knew." He noticed the shift in the ridges of flesh above Saiga-san's shades. "He told me the day he wrecked the store. I saw one of his memories. They cut her throat, Saiga-san and he couldn't do anything about it."

"He witnessed it?"

"They forced him to." _Forced him to do other things as well._ "I don't think he had much of a choice. It's like he keeps telling me."

"That explains his hesitation. You must've heard him through the door. He didn't want to give us an answer."

"I wouldn't, either if I was him." _I have no idea how he's holding on like this. It can't be easy._ "He didn't tell me much when _I_ asked. I wanted to know why they killed her. He...he told me he wanted to forget it all. I don't think..."

"He can't forget it, boy. That's why he's mum on it."

"Am I interrupting a special occasion?" Kazahaya looked to the side, hearing Kakei's mellifluous voice breaking the serious tone of their discussion. Slender hands placed down a bag of store-bought pastries and then slid smooth and quick into one pocket, producing a small envelope. "I heard some talking as I was coming back and this was the one souvenir I received while I was out."

"You mean someone slipped it to you in secret?"

Shock in the older man's voice – baritone shot through with alarm – and Kakei's expression hardened. Turned serious and his boss nodded, chestnut strands wafting down to fall soft and delicate against the frame of polished metal. "Open it, Saiga. Let's see what warning or games they're playing with us."

Kazahaya stood. Moved closer. Watched as the envelope divulged its contents.

A single petal and a small electronic device. He had no idea what it was.

However, glancing back and forth between Saiga-san and Kakei-san, he noticed that they did. "It's a sound recording. Love, are you sure you want to hear this? And what about the boy? It could be more of the same."

"As long as we destroy it after. Kudou-kun," Kakei-san asked, turning to face him, "are you sure you want to be here for this? You've already seen so much. I don't want you in a state afterwards."

Kazahaya chewed on his lower lip. It wasn't an unkind suggestion, considering... Considering that if the recording meant more of _that_ kind of stuff, perhaps it would be better for him to leave. He didn't want to hear Rikuo in pain or some of the implications the possible sounds could mean but if he left...

If he left and kept himself ignorant, how would he fit this piece of the complicated puzzle into place? He wouldn't have it in the first place and in this treacherous game being played by Rikuo's tormentors, he couldn't afford to skip any clues. He couldn't afford to lose Rikuo because he was squeamish or just like Rikuo, horribly afraid.

Rikuo was holding on, somehow. So could he.

"I'll stay. I have to."

Kakei-san's eyes on him, asking him again without words, _"Are you sure about this, Kudou-kun?"_ He nodded, emphatic. No hesitation on his part. His own silent communication. _I'm eighteen. I'm no longer a child. I'll stay. I'll listen. You know why._

A moment like a held breath. Then, Kakei spoke. "Play it, Saiga."

Kazahaya glimpsed the small button or whatever it was being pushed, clicking something inside the device. A spooling of tape or simply something else, maybe digital but for the first minute it was all silence like the empty confines of a pure white room. For a minute, he thought the recording was a dud or plain useless – just lack of sound, like a cruel joke that enticed without any guarantee of laughter or shocked response.

What followed next was horrific.

It was a loud, drawn-out scream so shrill that if glass windows existed in this room, they would break. A cry of complete terror, edged with panic and the sound of shuffling. Of someone moving, attempting to break away. _"No! Eichiro! Don't let them do this to me! Don't –"_ Saiga-san's hand clenched tight, as if the other man wanted to crush the noise into nothing. The recording rolled on, snarling an ugly string of expletives. _"Shut the little fucker up, Mikuragi."_ A heavy footfall. _"Now."_ The thud of a body hitting the floor. No. Slammed into the floor by the sound. _"Why don't you get out of here before I fucking kill you, shithead? Come back when we're done with him."_

Oh gods. This scenario was familiar. Why was this bringing up deja-vu?

"_You're a fucking asshole, Toshiya."_

The rustle of cloth. _"I'll swallow those words if I were you, Eichiro. You'll eat shit talking big like that."_ Another faint noise. Someone being pushed. The clang of steel. The almost inaudible click of the bolt being thrown. Faint shouts from a distance. Kazahaya glanced from the stream of audio coming out of the device to the brow-knitted expression Kakei-san wore. Looking to the other man standing across from them, completing their triangle, Kazahaya confirmed his worst fears.

All of them were taken aback. Only he knew what this was about.

A desperate scramble, cut off. A vicious laugh. _"Where do you think you're going?"_ The sudden hard sounds of blows, striking thick and heavy. Cries of pain. _"Imagine that. Thinking that Eichiro's going to help you. What's he going to do?"_

A resounding laugh of gravel and smoke. _"I don't know, Jiro. Cut him a new one?"_

Laughter and all of it so derisive and cruel so that it crawled across his skin like unleashed spiders. A groan of distress. The dreaded sound of unzipping and the slap of flesh. _"Hold him still. Haven't had a good fuck in three days."_

And then, deja-vu smacked him, dislodging the memory entire.

"_No...no!"_ A wild shriek. _"No...you can't! Eichiro!"_ Another blow; so brutal that Kazahaya winced. _"Eichiro!"_

"_Shut up, you damn whore!"_ A yelp of agony. Kazahaya had tears in his eyes. _"This is all you're gonna be getting now. Spread his legs."_

"_No...no..."_ Rikuo's voice a knife-edge of hysteria. _"No...please...no...no!"_

Beside him, Kakei-san trembled. Saiga-san's hand shook but the other man still reached over and pulled the smaller man closer to him. Kazahaya realized he, too, shuddered, appalled by the continuing dialogue.

"_No! You can't! You can't!"_ Horrible, horrible sounds. _"Stop...please...stop..."_

"_Look at the pretty bitch cry."_

Sniggering. _"He's mine next."_

"_I'm sure he can take you. Hey, how is he today, Toshiya? Taste good?"_

A snarled grunt. Ragged screaming. _"Hasn't...been...this...fucking...good..."_ A loud groan. Kazahaya closed his eyes, hearing the whimpers behind the coarse chuckling. _"Who's up next?"_

"Why would they...why would someone..."

"Shhh, love. You know they're trying to demoralize us. Scare us."

"They're sick. They're...no one normal would do something like that." If Kakei-san meant the photographing and now this audio-taping or recording of one of many of the traumatic experiences Rikuo suffered, then his boss was right. Otherwise, they already knew that but then again, this was the first time they've heard actual dialogue. He's already been exposed to it via Rikuo's memories, thanks to his ability. "No one sane would...give something like this to _anyone_ and..."

"Get our stuff ready tonight, just in case, Kakei. We might need to move soon and quickly."

Saiga-san and Kakei-san's voices melded, fading out of his consciousness as Kazahaya concentrated on the audio. New words, swift and brutal, followed the consecutive assaults on Rikuo. He heard them, just barely above the wretched gasping sobs. _"Pretty little punk."_ The jangling of laughter, like rusted chimes in a bitter wind. _"Hey, you done yet?"_

Snickering. _"Wait your turn, Jiro. There's plenty here for you, isn't there?"_ The voice turned glacial, iron-hard and menacing. _"Isn't there?"_

A soft thump. _"Well, shit. He's passing out, Mikuragi."_

"_Slap him the fuck awake."_

Toshiya. That command brooked no argument. Kazahaya jumped as the crack reverberated from the device. _"Shit. He's out cold, boss. Unless there's something you're gonna do about it."_

Hard footfalls. _"Clean yourself, fool. You look fucking stupid."_ Sharp quick snaps of words, like fraying razor wire. _"Are you going to fuck him or not, Jiro?"_

"_Damn, boss...he's a mess."_

"_Never bothered you before."_ Stony silence. _"Get it over with, Jiro or get your ass out of here."_

"_Goddammit! Don't push me around like that!"_

"_You want a red smile?"_

"_Okay! Okay! Dammit!"_ Silence. _"Ugh...you cleaning him?"_

"_Get it the hell over with, Jiro. You let that little snotnosed asswipe Eichiro take care of the rest. That's all he's good for."_ Frantic sounds and Kazahaya realized Jiro was finishing, none too eager to be caught in the center of Toshiya's ire. _"This one's good for fucking – nothing else."_

"_I demand second next time."_

"_Don't test me, Jiro."_

"_Dammit, Toshiya! Just because you've –"_

Whatever it was Jiro was about to say never got said. There was a loud clean snap in the distance. Metal slammed, crashing into metal and Kazahaya jerked, startled to hear Yoshiro's belligerence. _"What are you doing, Toshiya?"_

"_Rikuo-kun! Damn it...what the hell did they...hang on!"_

"_Aw, isn't that sweet? Makes me sick."_

"_Shut the hell up, Toshiya!"_ He could almost envision Eichiro's glare.

_"You were never given authorization to do anything like this!"_ Yoshiro's voice rose, bellowing. _"You want answers from him; you get them the right way – not like this!"_

_"How? Like you – cutting him open with glass? Sleep deprivation? You're no better than me, you worthless prick. When I stick my dick in him, he talks. He didn't do much besides kill one of your men, did he?"_

_"I'm not some child rapist." _

Sardonic laughter. _"He's hardly a child. Or are you too easily swayed by that gibbering idiot over there?" _

_"According to Japanese law, he is. Until he's eighteen, he's officially a..."_

_"And how are they going to know? You gonna tell them? You gonna tell them what you are or are they gonna drag you off to the crazies to become their bitch?" _Someone spat. Kazahaya knew who. _"Go back and play with your glass, old man. Get outta here."_

_"Eichiro-san, how's the boy?"_

Silence. Beat. Beat. _"He's unconscious. He's bleeding bad." _Anger rising to the surface, disturbing the other man's taut voice. _"He was almost well, too."_

_"Toshiya..."_

_"Come on, boys...let's go. Game's over for today."_

_"Toshiya, I'm not done speaking to you, yet!"_

_"I am, old man, so fuck off."_ A sharp intake of breath, as if in bewildered anger. The sound of footsteps stopping. _"Get him clean by tonight."_ Stony silence – Kazahaya sensed Eichiro's helpless rage – and when Eichiro made a sound of disgust, he didn't want to know why. For once, he was glad he couldn't see, because he was sure Toshiya must've done something lewd and crass. He could only think of Rikuo lying still and unresponsive, mind gone dark and blank with pain and was grateful that he wasn't able to hear the rest.

Neither, it seemed, were they. With an audible snap, the recording ended, trailing into eerie silence and Kazahaya stared at Saiga-san and Kakei-san. It was with great control and restraint, he noticed, that allowed the darkly-clad man to lay the device down without slamming it into the table. No one could've mistaken the tension in those fingers for anything else but suppressed fury. His boss wore an expression of distress; brown eyes etching an invisible line down to the device and back. Back up to his stunned face and then to Saiga-san.

"You heard him. It wasn't over."

"I know, love. I know." A comforting rub on his boss's shoulder. "Don't think about it, Kakei."

He knew what the two meant. Kazahaya shuddered and took an involuntary step back, distancing himself from them. That first episode that Rikuo suffered – a moment of dread and terrible to witness – was further compounded by that callous command. _Get him clean by tonight._ He didn't want it to mean what he thought it meant but there was no other way of looking at it. He only hoped that Rikuo was still out cold when the vicious men came back.

He didn't want to hear Rikuo in any more pain.

"Yet another name. More evidence. First pictures. Now an audio clip. What will they send next, Saiga? A video tape? A DVD?"

"They'll do that if they can't get a hold of the boy."

"And they'll keep sending it until we either go mad or buck beneath the pressure. Neither which are alternatives I like. You heard how they broke him, Saiga. You heard how he screamed. That's not the Rikuo who left here. That's not the boy that Kudou-kun relied on. I know you brought in the pictures but if they know..."

"Then why did they give it to you? Why not a full-out assault?"

"Because it's a game of wills." Kakei's voice was stronger. Kazahaya was always surprised at how quickly his boss reasserted himself, overcoming a jarring emotional blow. "If we cave and crumble first, we'll be easy pickings. I know what you're thinking – that lowlife doesn't have the intelligence for that. Don't underestimate him. There's a reason why we also got the latter half of that conversation: It's a warning. Toshiya told Yoshiro to back off and threatened Eichiro before and after attacking Rikuo. He's telling us to watch ourselves. It's the same reason perhaps why Tsukiko-san died."

"As a warning? To Rikuo?"

"I thought he killed her because..." Kazahaya faltered, remembering. "Because he wanted to show Rikuo that he really was useless. That he couldn't save her."

"I see. You knew, Kudou-kun?"

"I was speaking to Saiga-san before. Yes, I knew."

"That completely ruins what we've figured out before. She was the bait for him and he fell for it." A gleam of light upon black as the shades turned towards the table, staring down at the device. "So they get him, torture him; make him wish he'd never lived. And then they kill her. So there goes the bait. So what does the boy become, Kakei?"

"He's bait for someone else."

"Who? The kid? How would that work?"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Kazahaya threw his hands up; baffled by the sudden twist in the discussion. "How would I...? Why would I...? What...what are you talking about?"

"Sit down, Kudou-kun."

It was a good suggestion. The room seemed to distort even as his sense of bewilderment increased. The bag of pastries was forgotten, sitting idle next to the dead-silent recording device and the... Kazahaya leaned forward, picking the delicate scrap of petal in between two fingers. Something wasn't right with this, like with Rikuo's painkillers. Something in particular about this..._this_ petal wasn't right. At all.

"But why would anyone be after the kid, Kakei? What value does he...you don't think..."

"It might be a possibility. It's the only one that makes sense. What doesn't is why they had to go in a roundabout way and nearly kill Rikuo in the process."

"They don't want him dead. Not that bastard."

"I haven't forgotten." A grimace crossed Kakei's smooth features. "Kudou-kun, when you ran, did anyone know?"

"You mean..." How would Kakei-san know about his family situation? His reason for running? And why would it...? "I don't think...how did you know, Kakei-san?"

An exchanged glance between both men and the coils tightening in Kazahaya's stomach snapped inward, branding his fear on his face. "I suppose it's time you knew. Kudou-kun, I'm a precog. I see events in the future. Sometimes, they're short but succinct. Other times, I can see them all laid out like a plan. Do you wonder how I knew where and when to find Rikuo that night?"

_It couldn't be._ "You saw it?"

"I saw your future. I saw you kneeling by him in the snow."

"Can you see Rikuo's?"

"His future's vague and spare in revealing itself, unlike yours. The additional psychic energy would've clouded any trace I could've found after he disappeared."

"And now?" Traces of uncertainty. He was afraid.

Kakei-san sighed, pushing up the frame of his glasses and gazed at him. Behind his boss, Saiga-san stood, as if warding them from unseen visitors. The younger psychic rubbed the silken smoothness of the petal, trying to alleviate his jitters. It didn't help.

"Truth is, Kudou-kun, that Rikuo's future only brings shadows. Shadows of pain and guilt. Nothing concrete. I don't think this will be over for him quite so soon, nor so quickly. When I look into yours, you're always by his side. There's no deception in that."

"That..."

"How is he, Kudou-kun?"

"He's sleeping. I gave him the pills, Kakei-san and..." Oh gods, no. Don't cry. "He's so weak and thin and...I don't like seeing him like this. Why did you give it to him, Kakei-san? What's wrong with him?"

"They injured him badly, Kudou-kun. The damage goes deep. Some things just never heal and if they do, they don't heal right."

"But...it's been months..."

"Even so."

"He's not going to get well, is he?"

"Not so quickly as we'll like but I wouldn't dismiss it out of hand like that. He's trying but things are a lot harder for him now. The drugs are to help him with that."

"We wouldn't have given it to him otherwise."

"So that was what you guys were talking about."

"Yes, it was, Kudou-kun. He came to us and asked us for it. It's hard to refuse when we both saw the pain in his eyes. He tried not to let us see it. He's probably tried to hide it from you as well."

"He did." Rikuo sitting on the stairs. The night falling down soft and quiet. The burning brightness behind those eyes, set into a slender and pale face. Rikuo's denial. How hushed his voice was. The raw expression of hopelessness – of an end to come. Rikuo standing there – long sleeves covering a month's worth of scars – and all of the illnesses and stomach problems and fainting spells. All of the episodes. The photographs. The recording. Pieces of a bloody puzzle fitting into place, matched by each beating and rape and humiliation.

"Oh gods," Kazahaya murmured. "He said he was dying and I..."

"What, boy? What is it?"

"Kakei-san, is his...did he...his body's falling apart on him, isn't it? Because of what they did?"

"It was a month, Kudou-kun. A month of all of that."

"Oh no." He was crying. He couldn't stop himself. "We can't...we can't lose him now. I've tried so hard...he can't..."

"Boy, we're not going to lose him."

"But he's..."

"He's survived this long, kid. If he's unwilling to go down without a fight, we're not going to lose Rikuo. His body might be failing him but if we continue to encourage him, he'll stand a better chance of recovering. He'll sleep and get some strength back. The drugs will ease the pain. No matter what those bastards did to him, as long as he's listening to you and seeking help, he'll get through this. Trust me."

"Besides, Kudou-kun, none of your futures shows immediate death. Certainly not his."

"Then why does he seem so...it's like he's not healing. Like he's not getting better."

"He's still eating? Able to walk? Does he speak to you?"

"Yeah but..." Kazahaya closed his eyes. Replayed the conversation in his head. "He couldn't even get up today. And he didn't want me to stay."

"I'll go check on him. Saiga, mind keeping Kudou-kun company?"

"Sure. Make sure the boy's okay, love."

"You know I'll do that." Kakei opened the door, only to look back at them. Kazahaya glimpsed resolve in his gaze tempered by gentle sorrow. "Try to figure out the other item if you can. It's not as simple or blatant as what we heard."

Click. Silence falling. A calm quiet after the outbreak of brutality. Only sound but not.

_You remembered. All of that...Rikuo, you remembered. And they weren't done. They came back and...Rikuo, how many more times did you have to go through that? How much do you remember that I haven't seen? How much aren't you telling me? Shielding me from?_

"The petal, boy," Saiga-san said, sitting next to him. "Don't wear it out."

He looked down and stopped. He'd been unconsciously rubbing it during the discussion – a preoccupied movement that failed to settle his mind. Now, he stared at it. The texture, the color, and maybe a possible scent. From its appearance, it was fresh, just plucked off a flower and if it hadn't undergone such rigorous treatment, it would've fared better. Still, it seemed familiar. Like he'd seen it somewhere.

"You know something, boy?"

"My sister loved flowers. We used to grow all kinds back home before I left. I think..."

Then, it occurred to him.

It was the scent. A fragrance, light and natural, like rainwater. What was it that Rikuo remembered after Tsukiko died? _He smelled rain and it wasn't coming from Tsukiko._ The petal in between his fingers was long and white. _A rain lily. Besides the narcissus, this was one of Kei's favorite..._

"Oh no."

"What is it, boy?"

"Saiga-san..." Horror anew. "I think...I think my sister's involved."

_Oh, Kei. What have you gotten yourself into?_

_

* * *

_

_Author's Notes:_ According to the Japanese Sexual Offenses Law, a child is anyone under the age of 18. The reason why Kakei and Saiga hold no hope for apparent justice is because Japan's law states this as follows:

* * *

**'Rape', Art. 177 Penal Code**

'_A person who, through violence or intimidation, has sexual intercourse with a female person of not less than thirteen (13) years of age commits the crime of rape and shall be punished with imprisonment at forced labour for a limited term of not less than two years. The same shall apply to a person who has sexual intercourse with a female person under thirteen (13) years of age.'_

**'Death or injury resulting from rape', Art. 181 Penal Code**

'_A person who commits a crime provided in Articles 176 to 179 and thereby kills or injures another shall be punished with imprisonment at forced labour for life or for not less than three years.'_

Google: "Sexual Offenses Laws - Japan".

This is even less than the sentence usually given out for theft, which is five years ("The typical rape sentence, she said, starts at three years, but seldom goes more than five, which is the average sentence for theft." - Google "Japan's Battlers of Sex Abuse Confront Culture, Law"). This is for women, not including men in the statistics. So by the time Rikuo turned 18 during his imprisonment, the Japanese Sexual Offenses Law no longer covers him, which is why Kakei and Saiga must go vigilante if they can. It's also why Yoshiro opposes Toshiya so much - not only for his predilection to rape but also because it breaches the law.


	21. Quartz Clarity

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 21**

"Kakei, think this through." From where he stood, hands crammed deep in his pockets, Kazahaya shuffled his weight from one foot to the next. Saiga-san, in what had to be unintentional mimicry, did the same and then broke the pattern, pacing across the floor. "What would we gain from you being here? From you staying while we run?" The lamp on the nightstand threw long dark shadows on concrete, overlapping pale green with the steady movement of one and the seated silhouette of another. The only shadows missing were his and Rikuo's.

One of the shadows stopped, as if jerked to a halt by invisible strings off-stage. It was Kakei-san, sitting by Rikuo's bedside that spoke. "You know the reason, Saiga. It makes the most sense. You need to be there with them."

"But why you, love?"

Rawness and worry and need. Kazahaya heard the ache behind the man's voice and wondered if the same feeling warred behind those hidden eyes. He's heard enough in his own voice to read the emotions by now. There was something more behind the question – something intimate that only the two men gazing at each other knew. Rikuo and he used to have a relationship akin to that, albeit through squabbling and throwing insults at each other. To reach the level of where Kakei-san and Saiga-san were at...

It seemed impossible.

He blamed Toshiya and all his murderous, brutal, raping thugs for that. For the reasons why Rikuo laid on that bed, overcome by so much pain in the aftermath that drugs were needed. For the reasons why he couldn't hold Rikuo tight when the nightmares came; images blood-drenched and sadistic and cruel and when the sounds of whimpering and half-sobs destroyed sleep. Or the nights when there were no sounds and he found Rikuo curled into himself, losing a fight that had already been lost.

There was that.

Yet, there was the sensation of snow – pinpricks of ice and sudden cold – and Rikuo's fingers curled in his. Rikuo in tears and afraid and hands clenched around metal, words painful and sharp as glass, choking out an experience he'd wish on no one. How Rikuo and he shared that moment of silence, when a squeeze of the hand meant "thank you" and he knew that. How Rikuo probably meant him to construe it as such.

Yes, there was that, too.

"Kakei," and the gruffness of Saiga-san's voice jolted him back, "you don't need to do this for us. They can use your wisdom, your foresight. If you need muscle, I can stay behind for that."

"No, Saiga."

"What will you do if they start asking questions? What if they –"

_What if they kill you, he means? Or do worse?_

"If all of us leave, they'll know. They'll realize their suspicions were correct. But if the seemingly unassuming one stays, we can keep them guessing. You _must_ go with them, Saiga. What if they show up at the hideout when you're not there? Or while you're away? Do you want to return to see one boy missing and the other one butchered? Or both gone?"

"These men are the same ones who turned Rikuo's ability into piecemeal, Kakei. You and I both know if we come to blows, both of us are dead. Where will that leave the boys?"

"Then what option do you suggest?"

"Come with us, love. I can't see into their futures. You can't fight them all off by yourself if that happens. Kakei," the other man said, moving towards the seated pharmacist, "we've stuck through it by being together. If we split, even for the boys, we're in danger. Don't choose this path, please."

"You've said it yourself, Saiga." Kazahaya blinked, hearing the softer voice catch. "We're both dead anyway if we have to fight. Even if you stay, how long can you intimidate them away from here? I may be slight but I can play mind games with them. Keep them guessing."

"For how long?"

A light laugh; the pale fall of sadness dappling it like fading sunlight. "You sound like me. My own echo chamber. I suppose we can't just leave the boys in safe shelter somewhere?"

"Not by themselves."

"There's also the situation with Rikuo's painkillers." The sudden flash of a white sleeve. Kazahaya swallowed the lump developing in his throat. From the gentle movement, his boss had smoothed back the damp hair from Rikuo's brow. The drugs had done its work and let his partner sleep. He couldn't imagine this new kind of agony. "If we both leave..."

"And he runs out..."

"You see." A smile that wasn't one. "You need to go with them. I need to stay here. One of us needs to act as the go-between in case he runs out."

"A fine trap you've laid there, love. I suppose that means I've lost."

"I don't remember setting a wager."

"You did. You're staying. I'm leaving. It's as simple as that."

"No, Saiga. It's not like that." This time, the slimmer man rose, raising his head so that the frame of his glasses glimmered. "It's a sacrifice. I want these boys to be happy. If that means giving up being with you for some time just to keep them safe, I'll do it."

"Don't give up yourself. Love, don't."

"I have no intent on dying."

"That's not what I meant."

"No, that's not what you meant." The pre-cog's volume dropped to a whisper like rain on silk. "That's not what you meant at all."

Kazahaya unpeeled himself from the wall, padding on quiet feet towards and around the two men focused on each other. He slipped into the much-worn chair; felt himself enshrouded in the silence and the mood of the moment and gazed down at Rikuo. Reached out for his hand and felt his fingers curl around as if they belonged there. To see Rikuo like this; to hear Kakei-san's declaration of sacrifice; to remember Rikuo's own offer, wrenched out of misery and futility and just the hope to see him – Kazahaya – safe made him close his eyes. Offer his own prayers to whichever god or luck or fortune that would have pity on them. That would have mercy for Rikuo. To end his pain. To end this chase...this madness.

It felt like a shadow play and they were all a part of it. His shadow intermingled with the overlapping forms on the floor. Three out of four. Many more – darker shapes – if he thought; if he acknowledged that they, too, were inextricable from this mess. The whistling of shards that ripped open Rikuo's back and the man that ordered it done. Yoshiro. The broken body of a girl, throat sliced and slick with blood. Tsukiko. One of the dead. The gentle face and hands of an older man, trying to mend what wouldn't heal. Eichiro. The cast-aside remnants of whatever remained of Rikuo's body and soul and the man and those who caused such anguish. Toshiya. Mikuragi. Jiro and so many others responsible for where they stood today. For why he lingered near Rikuo, aware of the difference between their relationship and that of the two older men standing near him and longed – achingly so – to return to before.

But before _was_ an impossibility and he knew it as well as Rikuo did. He'd been told it once, perhaps twice. He didn't need to be reminded again. The only thing he could do was wait and watch the shadows move; playing out their parts in this cold cruel reality and hope the consequences were doled out to those whom deserved it. By the end – if he survived – his part will be played out as well; yet another shadow being manipulated by fate or destiny or whatever the hell they called it. And with Kei involved – how she fitted in; he had no idea – Kazahaya feared crossing her shadow.

It wasn't that he feared her. She was his sister.

What he feared was who or what she represented. It'd been some time since he'd last seen her and who knew what happened during the two years he'd been gone? Tsukiko was a hostage, held as a disposable pawn until Rikuo appeared. Then, according to Saiga-san and Kakei-san, Rikuo became one to lure him in. But how and why? Was Kei in a similar circumstance, held against her will to trap him? But then why the usage of two people as bait?

It didn't make any sense.

He shivered. If he had to witness Kei in the same light as Tsukiko, that would be...

Unthinkable. He couldn't fathom it, nor would he be able to endure it. He didn't have the stubborn fortitude that Rikuo had and he couldn't conceive the notion of his dear sister imprisoned. Just the thought, the mere image frightened him. That fortitude of Rikuo's only lasted until the knife was drawn across Tsukiko's pale throat and Kazahaya knew his mental strength was less than that. He sincerely hoped that wasn't the case. But if that wasn't, what would Kei be...

Stop. Put a cap on that. Don't go there.

Kazahaya hesitated, halting the shocking train of thought that ambushed him. He did not – _did not_ – want to even consider that possibility. Despite the dreams of Kei, the petal of the lily, and that mysterious hairpiece left behind in Rikuo's blood washed memory, there was no way his sister would ever go along with such atrocities. Yet, he recalled the perfect burn scars circling Rikuo's wrists and shuddered. Unless there were other pyrokinetics there, Kei was the only one he knew. Since he'd left, had she gained mastery of her ability? And if so, why...

He didn't understand. It'd been too long.

Either way, when he found out Kei was involved; Saiga-san and Kakei-san determined that to protect them both, their next best option was to spirit them out. What he hadn't expected was for his boss to volunteer to stay behind. In a way, he was glad Rikuo was out cold, unable to hear Kakei-san chart his path for their sakes. It was one thing for Rikuo to do so, considering the guilt and shame that forced that choice. It was another for Kakei-san, their protector, to throw aside Saiga-san's company and support.

For them. Another price to pay.

"Are we leaving tonight, then?"

"No." A soft murmur. "They might be here already, spying on us. If you leave now, it's very obvious. Leave it for tomorrow when we can get the boys downstairs. Act like it's normal for the three of you to be out."

"Normal?" Kazahaya didn't need to see Saiga-san's expression. "If they track us to the train station, they'll know it's not a daily excursion. How will we be able to....? Don't tell me, Kakei. You're going to be a decoy? A distraction?"

"However did you guess?"

A heavy sigh. "Love, I wish you wouldn't do that."

"I'll ensure that the three of you leave safely. Whatever else happens is up to you. Will Rikuo walk or will you have to carry him?"

"Depends on the boy. If he's able to, he'll probably walk. Wounded pride and all that."

"I'm sure of it. Let him. He doesn't have much pride left to hold onto – might as well give him that much."

"Kakei, you sure you don't want to..."

"I'm sure, Saiga. Keep yourself and the boys safe, all right?"

"You, too. Watch yourself, love. I'll try to come by and visit. See how things are doing. Stay alive till then."

"Shouldn't be too difficult."

Kazahaya bowed his head until his forehead touched his and Rikuo's clasped hands. They were leaving Green Drugstore. He'd always wanted to leave; to strike his own course of independence. Now, they were leaving – here today and gone tomorrow. Like the wind. Like how Kei warned him, all those years back, that all fellow psychics were bound for the same fate. He didn't know his destiny. He didn't know Rikuo's or Saiga-san's or Kakei-san's. He only knew he was leaving the one place he could call home.

It was for Rikuo. All of it, for Rikuo.

Still, that didn't make it any less difficult.


	22. Citrine Pearl

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**Author's Comments: Been two years since my last update - geez, does time fly and life take over! I will continue writing this fic, only I'm also working on my own original story now in all determination and sincerity to complete it. Thank you to those who have read this so far - your encouragement is like balm to my writer's soul. =)  
**

**CHAPTER 22**

Soft cotton beneath his slim, sensitive fingers and the taste of sun-warmed wind against his lips; from inside Green Drugstore, Kazahaya saw a beautiful day begin. This beauty, however, was fraught with danger. From the confines of the shelves from where he stood with Rikuo, he watched Kakei-san and Saiga-san repeating their daily routine, which included the bigger man sleeping at the counter. Kakei-san's absentminded glances outside, though, veiled their true intent of surveying the premises. While the shelves provided some camouflage, any outsider walking from an angle could possibly glimpse them. Quick of mind, the empath took an immediate superficial interest in the goods next to him to thwart undue suspicion.

Next to him, Rikuo sat down, back against the wall to reduce the size of his shape. A brief grimace twisted across the pale face and Kazahaya winced, as if feeling the discomfort himself. He didn't know what kind of damage was tearing Rikuo apart but from what he'd gleaned, it wasn't pleasant. Not if Rikuo had to resort to pills to stave off the pain. He stood there, shielding Rikuo from possible onlookers and in a clumsy attempt to act busy, knocked an entire open case of wrapped condoms onto the floor in a rustling blue spread of plastic.

Silence.

Saiga-san's snores – exaggerated or real, he couldn't tell – overrode Kakei-san's mellow voice, permeating into the quiet corner where he and Rikuo stared at one another. It was a stupid little accident; he knew that. Rikuo would also know that – _wouldn't he?_ – and it was a mishap that served as a plausible disguise. Still, he flushed; remembering what those items were for and Rikuo's dark gaze reminded him of blacker thoughts.

"Move out of the way. I'll help you with...those."

_Eh?_ "W...what?"

A fringe of sable fell in front of darkening eyes as Rikuo scrambled in front of him on hands and knees before the mess he'd made. "Move, Kazahaya." It took Kazahaya a moment before he reacted, kneeling down to help Rikuo salvage his mistake. Yet, he couldn't help but notice how Rikuo's hands trembled. "It's nothing." Rikuo's eyes were hidden from view; his jaw set and resolute. Without speaking, they picked the floor clean and Kazahaya shoved the box back onto the shelf.

Rikuo remained at his feet, face turned downward.

From outside, they looked like two ordinary clerks. While he wore the Green Drugstore apron in earnest, Rikuo's was simply part of the plan. There would be no other explanation for why the younger man was down here, except to work. No one else besides them knew that Rikuo hadn't worked in months and probably never would again. "Rikuo," he said softly to avoid startling him. From his vantage point, Rikuo's logo-emblazoned apron spilled out across the other boy's legs, rippling green. It also revealed – _still_ – how painfully thin Rikuo was, as evidenced by the shrunken breadth of the other's shoulders.

Then, Rikuo trembled.

"They're here. Some of them. I..."

"What?"

"It's not them. Not..." Kazahaya raised his head, glancing hurriedly outside. He didn't see anyone but he didn't question Rikuo. He had no idea what their adversaries' psychic signatures were; Rikuo, however, would know. Had to know after being around the brutes for a devastating month. "It's not..._him_," Rikuo ground out, as if the stress behind the word took all his effort to force out. "It feels like..." Eyes widening, Rikuo stared in palpable anguish at him. "It's not...it's..."

"Rikuo, what's wrong? You're all white."

"It's the glass, Kazahaya. It's them." Rikuo's voice faltered; though his gaze never wavered. "You remember the glass, don't you?" A question that reminded Kazahaya of a frightened child seeking reassurance that monsters and ghosts didn't exist. "I...I don't know what he...they want of me. I..." Rikuo fumbling for words; trying to form coherent sentences was like watching a blind man laying stones down in a garden. "I thought...I thought it was just...that Toshiya...only he..."

_Glass..._ "You mean Yoshiro's after you?"

"I don't know. I don't know why." A moment of silence; Kazahaya bit his lip and watched as strain etched furrows in Rikuo's face. He wanted to kneel down, like he had all those previous times, and offer solace but he didn't move. He couldn't afford to let his emotions override their laid-out plan. No one was supposed to know Rikuo was here. No one should know that Rikuo was downstairs, huddled against one of the shelves.

Kazahaya had no clue just how visible they were from here.

"I don't know why..."

"Rikuo?"

"Why is he searching for me?" Pain an ugly rasp in the other's voice. "I...I don't know if...he can...if I can trust him. He could've..." Frustration mounting and it didn't need an empath's power to discern the fraying edges of Rikuo's mental state. "He could've done something. He could've stopped him but he..."

Kazahaya decided now was not a good time to interrupt.

"He could've but he left me with _him_ and..." Thorns in memory and the older psychic recalled, as if yesterday, the vivid and horrific recollection of Yoshiro stepping out and closing the door that fateful day. What followed afterwards. "And _he_ destroyed me and...it was all talk...bravado...but he...he never did anything to help me. He was just as afraid...as cowardly as I was when it came to _him_. Makes two of us, doesn't it?"

His heart twisted, bent like the crooked and bitter smile on Rikuo's pale visage.

"I suppose he's here to collect now, huh? Turn me over to _him_. If only...only if he'd killed me sooner...with the glass."

"Rikuo, no. You can't mean that."

"Why does he need me?" Hands balled into knuckle-white fists, stark against the dark green of Rikuo's work apron. "He doesn't need me anymore. Toshiya's got all the answers. Yoshiro doesn't need his glass...to make me talk. Not after they..."

"Rikuo, don't."

"Toshiya _fucked_ the answers out of me, Kazahaya." Despite Rikuo's low volume, Kazahaya heard the sharp crescendo as it rose; unalloyed and undirected rage punctuating each syllable. "He and every one of them fucked me until even..._even_ Yoshiro couldn't...didn't want to hurt me. But he didn't stop them. He stepped aside and they... I almost died, Kazahaya. I almost bled to death...like that..."

"Rikuo..." What was one's reply to something like that?

The other boy shook his head, as if desperate to dispel tainted memories. Outside, distant though so close, Kazahaya's attuned hearing picked up on children's laughter, footsteps pitter-pattering, and cars rumbling by on the main street. Although part of it could be attributed to Rikuo's keen psychic sense, he became aware of others nearby. Others like them, hiding their abilities behind their normal façade. Stiffening, he wondered why Saiga-san and Kakei-san hadn't roused them from their hiding place, yet. Listening again, he realized that Saiga-san's affected snores had ceased. What was going on?

"It's strange," Rikuo said, disembodied voice drifting from below. The agitated tone was muted and gray – a gauzy shadow lost in the fog of remembrance and pain and a broken past. "I got worse and he...Yoshiro...he took me from Toshiya...not to hurt me. He didn't touch me...let me sleep. That was when I wasn't screaming...when the nightmares didn't come."

"Was it enough? What he did?"

A melancholic smile. "He was too late."

Kazahaya opened his mouth, uncertain what to say. Whatever it was, he never remembered it nor got the chance. A black monolith towered behind him, grasping his shoulder. He whirled around. Saiga-san stared at them, all seriousness and urgency and none of the usual shenanigans that typified him.

"It's time, boy. There are people here."

Rikuo's eyes were large, fear transparent.

"They're here?" Kazahaya didn't glance back. "In the store?"

"Yes. We can't creep out of here without being seen or followed, but apparently, they want to talk. Kakei's cautiously obliging them. I think we have a change of plans."

"Where are they?"

"Near the register. They're spread out."

"Then that means..." A shiver that goose-pimpled his flesh. "They can –"

"See us. Right." Saiga-san huddled in closer, his massive bulk further enshrouding them in shadow. "I don't know what they're about but they know you're here, Rikuo. And if they're not attacking us or attempting to abduct you, they must be here to help. Or cutting us a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Rikuo's voice was taut. "It's Yoshiro, Saiga."

Behind the gleam of the older man's shades, black brows beetled in startled fury. "The same man who hurt you in the first place?"

"The one who used glass."

"How did you...never mind." Voices murmured in the background, low and insistent. "You sensed them, didn't you, Rikuo? You know their psychic aura."

Rikuo's wide eyes glistened. "They know mine." The younger man stood, awkward gait not withstanding and rushed towards the open floor. Kazahaya gaped; Saiga-san reached out, grasping the telekinetic's arm but with a forceful pull, Rikuo was loose. Loose and storming straight into the psychics, whose deadly arrangement resembled that of an open human fan.

Saiga-san swore. They had no choice but to follow.

Shelves pulled back, vanishing into pencil points along Kazahaya's periphery as his focus sharpened onto Rikuo's back and the unfolding tableau before him. Kakei-san's pallor whitened. Several men – years older than Rikuo and he – encompassed most of the space, boxing them in with intimidating precision. Undeterred, Kazahaya inched closer until he stood abreast Rikuo, whose shoulders were rolled back. There were tears on his face.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Tears of rage. Rancid anger. A brittle edge in a voice trying not to break.

"I'm not here to hurt you, if that's what you're thinking." One of the men peeled off the counter, crisp navy sleeve brushing against the worn metal register. The pressed white shirt beneath the suit was stark and bright against professional blue. Tiny embroidered silver diamonds, pinpricks of light, winked from a dark silken tie. A sculpted face devoid of crow's feet or dimples or a genuine smile. A man with connections to money and power, as evidenced by the suit and the expensive but simple haircut. Not that young but not old, either. Scrutinizing deep-set eyes, each gaze edged, and Kazahaya understood why the art of mutilation with broken glass suited this man.

He shivered.

"If you're making a deal, I want nothing to do with it."

"Really?" The man strode forward. "Even if it keeps Toshiya off your ass?"

Rikuo paled. "Why _are_ you here, Yoshiro?"

Odd, that Rikuo called the man by his name without an honorific even now. He'd expected Rikuo's resentment and anger to sharpen his tongue but it wasn't forthcoming. Not that sharp, at any rate. Already, Kazahaya saw the domination working, leaving Rikuo a mere boy against a stronger man. He could sense the mental barriers slipping as Yoshiro talked, chiseling away at weakened defenses. The man was even encroaching upon Rikuo's private space!

"Your boss agreed, albeit reluctantly, to some of my terms. He'd like my head, of course, for those scars on your back and my part in your misfortune, but your safety comes first."

"_My_ safety? How I will know you haven't been bought?"

Yoshiro thrust his face close to Rikuo's, inducing a violent shudder from the overpowered youth. "Bought? By whom? That juvenile Toshiya? Or the boss, whose disappearance is just as interesting as yours?"

"How does that –"

"It's none of your concern," Yoshiro said, cutting off Rikuo's question with efficient brutality. "I'll get to the point. We have provided a secure little shelter, where you will hide till this is over, or –"

"Excuse us if we're not interested," Saiga-san snapped, forcing Yoshiro's attention away from Rikuo. "I don't trust you. I'm also sure that my partner was coerced into agreeing to your terms."

"Coerced?" Yoshiro smiled. Kazahaya shivered. Again. "Another of my terms is that we'll keep watch over your store and your partner while you proceed with your plans. Make sure he doesn't become the next on Toshiya's line-up, if you understand me."

"Is that a threat?"

"Oh no." The serpentine reply slithered by, uncontested. "We're parlaying the threat. You'll see what coercion really is, if that little punk gets his way."

"We already have, no thanks to you," Saiga-san said, his voice flattening. "You've left scars on the boy. Because of that bastard Toshiya, we've had our lot of nightmares and screams. For you to stand here, parroting your terms while making an implicit threat towards my partner, you have a lot of balls. I agree with the boy: What _is_ it you want?"

"I have nothing but the best intentions. You'll see."

"You leave Kakei and Saiga out of this." All heads turned to Rikuo, clad in his long-sleeved shirt and Green Drugstore apron. Kazahaya stepped forward, noticing the sudden clench of Rikuo's jaw. "Why are you involving them? Damn you, Yoshiro. Toshiya wants me and he'll wreck this entire place to do so. You damn well know he'll do that. Leave them out of this." There were dried tear stains on the other psychic's cheeks. "Why are you using them as hostages?"

"Why? Would you prefer me to use you?" A smirk curved the tip of Yoshiro's lip. "I wouldn't suggest that. It comes with its own price. You know that very well."

"I don't care. Just..."

_"Rikuo, no!"_

"I don't care." To Kazahaya's horror, Rikuo disregarded Kakei-san's admonition. "I can't let you threaten them. If you're making a deal, you go through me."

"Really? I thought you said you weren't interested."

"I have no choice. You're not threatening them."

_Damn it, no! Rikuo, not now!_ Kakei-san and Saiga-san didn't understand; didn't know about the promise Rikuo made him swear to. Now, in front of all of them, surrounded by the enemy, Rikuo was exerting his will. To keep them safe – to keep all of them goddamn safe while the bastard Yoshiro played him straight into his pocket. He didn't know what Yoshiro alluded to by "its own price" but it couldn't be anything good.

Couldn't Rikuo see how Yoshiro was still dominating him?

"Rikuo, what are you doing?"

"Stay out of this, Kazahaya." He wasn't going to win this one. Anger, fear, and loathing twisted on the canvas of Rikuo's face. Rikuo's eyes were uncanny, overridden with pain, intermingled with turmoil, eerie, and bright. "Please. Don't get involved. Not you."

He knew. Rikuo knew and let him know.

The other boy was afraid. Afraid and in agony, keeping mute on both in front of Yoshiro and his thugs. Psychics like them and probably all telekinetics like Rikuo. He wondered if any of them were telepaths. If any of them besides Yoshiro were responsible for hurling Rikuo against the wall or shredding his flesh into pieces while he'd screamed. He wondered and fought back another shudder, while next to him, Rikuo grimaced.

"So, the terms. Keep _that _boy out of it, huh?"

_Wait...what does that bastard know about me? Rikuo...you know._

"Don't bring him into it, Yoshiro."

"Huh." An immaculate navy-clothed leg shifted, adjusting Yoshiro's balance. The motion was almost...arrogant, if Kazahaya could label it as such. "Looks like you're in pain. Why don't we sit down and have a talk? You'll want that, wouldn't you?"

* * *

The overhead bridge was far behind them but Kazahaya remembered crossing under it, stepping into another branch of his life. Things weren't ever simple and this was one of them. Beside him, Rikuo rested, catching his breath. Kazahaya fiddled with their duffel bag, flicking the zipper. Saiga-san had slipped into one of the shops to buy some food, since they hadn't eaten a bite since noon. Kakei-san had only enough time to embrace the other man before they made good on their bargain with Yoshiro. They'd grabbed their bags and jackets and left; Yoshiro's terms a sour aftertaste in the psyche.

He didn't trust the man. None of them did. That was the problem.

Rikuo, though, was the one who hammered the contract out. That, too, was an issue.

However, thanks to Rikuo, they'd discovered how complex the matter had become. Yoshiro and Toshiya wrangled over a common battleground: dominance. Little wonder why Yoshiro scurried over trying to cut a deal with Kakei-san, hoping to use them as leverage. It effectively made them hostages to the man's whim and while Kazahaya credited Rikuo's intellect, he still doubted Yoshiro's sincerity. Looking back, Saiga-san and Kakei-san were accurate about the infighting of the factions.

That left Eichiro as the lone standby. What was his role in this?

"Here." Kazahaya caught the plastic bag Saiga-san tossed at him, opening it to check the contents. Rice crackers – his favorite – and pastries, plus a bottle of sugary milk tea. "Eat quick or wait till we get to the train. Can't promise you boys a gourmet meal just yet."

"Why the train?"

Rikuo's voice was strained. Kazahaya knew why. "Saiga-san?"

"I'll explain as we go."

Confused, Kazahaya exchanged glances with Rikuo. "Are we...?" He left the question half-spoken, suddenly cautious. According to their contract, the selected safe house kept them within Shinjuku. While it was one of the terms they disagreed on – Saiga-san and Kakei-san really didn't like Yoshiro micromanaging everything – Rikuo and the man eventually concluded the issue. Or so they thought.

"Smart kid. Rikuo, are you feeling okay?"

The younger psychic shook his head, remaining silent. Kazahaya put his food aside and pointed toward Rikuo's jacket pocket. Some things were better left unsaid. Rikuo knew his meaning.

"I don't need it."

"You're sure about that?"

The young man nodded, mouth drawn into a firm line. "I'll manage."

"You're not eating anything?"

"I have no appetite." Come to think of it, neither did he.

"You too, boy?" Saiga-san looked at him and then sighed. "Let's go, then."

Grabbing his bag of edibles, Kazahaya looped it around his wrist to keep his hands free, turning to assist Rikuo. Rikuo stumbled upon standing, bracing his weight against him; Kazahaya decided it was fortunate he was shorter but not weaker. Through Rikuo's thin jacket, he felt the rippling of muscle as the boy trembled. He couldn't tell if it was discomfort from pain or from his touch. There were still moments – more than he'd liked to admit – when Rikuo's hypersensitivity kicked in, bringing back flashes of trauma.

He'd wished they were gone.

"Saiga...where are we going?"

"Away." Only the man's back could be seen, clothed in typical black. "Kakei didn't want to relinquish control, so we're taking you away from here. Two hours at least." The whispered explanation alerted Kazahaya to the possibility that they were being tracked. Stalked. Rikuo's volume had also dropped. Between them, the conversation consisted of terse sentences. Kazahaya listened while keeping watch, trying to remain inconspicuous as he glanced from place to place, hoping no one noticed.

"Why, Saiga?"

"It's something we agreed on, Rikuo."

"It breaks the contract. Kakei might..."

"He considered it worth the risk." A minute pause. "I did, too."

"Did he decide to stay behind?"

"Kakei did it for you and the boy. You haven't even begun to live, yet."

Silence on Rikuo's end. This time, Kazahaya counted almost two minutes. "He doesn't need to get involved. Not for me."

"Then for who?"

"Kazahaya. I don't want him to be part of this. Or you. Or –"

"It's our choice to be part of it, Rikuo. Ask Kakei. Ask the boy if you like, but I think you already know. Was your life so worthless to be bartered for us?"

"It doesn't matter." A sharp inhaling of breath. "It's done. Consider it over, Saiga."

"I know. I just hope you don't regret it one day. I don't trust that man. How could you?"

Rikuo stiffened in his grasp, halting both of them in mid-stride. "You really think I had a choice? At all? With you, Kakei, and Kazahaya in the crossfire?"

"We're already there, boy. The day we found you, we were there."

It was a hard truth. Kazahaya glimpsed its impact striking Rikuo, twisting the muscles beneath sweat-shined skin and doing strange things with the corners of Rikuo's mouth. The duffel bag he carried over his shoulder was heavy and the little bag of food seemed like a millstone around his wrist. A passing stranger, engrossed in mobile conversation, walked by them. The syllables dropped like pebbles in a creek; each sound punctuating their internal silence and then disappearing. Like stones in a river, things went back to before.

He looked at Saiga-san, only to focus back onto Rikuo.

The silence was unbearable.

"Rikuo," he said, because dammit, someone needed to. "Saiga-san's right."

"He can't be." The younger man blurted out, denial a quick shield. "He can't be right."

Kazahaya grimaced. This was going to be a fight but they also needed to keep moving. If what Saiga-san said about the train was true – _of course it was_ – they needed to get there before their deception was discovered. He pondered over how Saiga-san and his boss figured out the details of _that_ before their departure. After all, Yoshiro and his lackeys were still around, then. Unless...

"Rikuo...please." It was his turn to ask. "We have to go. I don't want to get caught."

The other psychic's verdant gaze pierced through him. "Kazahaya?"

"Yes?"

"Why?" He heard the plea in the other boy's voice. "Why you, too?"

"Because Saiga-san's right, Rikuo. I'm already there. When I saw you that night...when I touched you and saw..." He let his sentence trail off, incomplete. He saw Rikuo comprehend, awareness and pain darkening his eyes. "You mentioned something. You know I'm part of this. I guess...this means I've made the right choice, right?"

"Kazahaya...you idiot."

"It's okay, Rikuo. It's okay." Kazahaya tightened his grip as Rikuo buckled. "You sure you don't want to take some?"

"No."

"Come on, boys," Saiga-san said, cutting into their conversation. "If you want to talk, best to do that later. We've got to get going."

"Which station, Saiga?"

"Shinagawa."

"I take it you're not mentioning the rest," Rikuo said, gait a sad set of stumbles. Kazahaya shifted, bag swinging as a counter-balance but it wasn't enough. Before both of them toppled over, Saiga-san was there, lifting both of them from mid-fall.

"You all right?"

Rikuo only nodded. Kazahaya looked at him, then followed suit.

"Okay. I'm staying alongside you now, Rikuo. Let's go – we have tickets to buy and a train to catch."

* * *

Shinagawa Station was a hubbub of noise, activity, and human bodies. Blaring intercom systems recited an endless litany of train departures and arrivals. For all its loudness, the voice was soothing, calm and composed, as if reflecting upon the daily schedule of multiple human lives via express or standard transportation was worth its while. Businessmen, children, women, and families walked or ran the lengths of the concourse towards their initial destinations. Signs overhead pointed to this train and that, bright and iconic.

Rikuo was worse. Much worse. Huddled against one of the many upright columns, arm wrapped around his stomach, the younger psychic squeezed both eyes shut and didn't speak. Crouching down, Kazahaya laid a hand on his shoulder. Rikuo flinched, body twitching but didn't respond further. The bottle of pills was in his jacket pocket; yet, Kazahaya never mentioned them. He knew about Rikuo's pride and hoped this agony would pass. People strolled past them, talking with each other or chatting over cell phones and in the maze of humanity, the empath hoped they were invisible.

"Rikuo," he said, seeing again the fine sheen on the other boy's skin, "hold on. Saiga-san will be back soon." He left off the "I hope", knowing that wouldn't console Rikuo any.

His friend only withdrew deeper, the other arm joining the first.

Saiga-san stood tall but there were other men here like him. Still keeping low, Kazahaya made sure to shift his weight, shielding Rikuo from sight. The ticket machines were busy; lines stretched long and unwieldy and with so many people around him, he couldn't see the black-clad man. The clicking of high heel shoes – he could never understand how women could wear those for hours – and glossy black dress shoes clipping at an even pace created a strange kind of rhythm. Surrounding them was the sound of Tokyo concentrated in Shinagawa Station and not in Ginza.

It was his first time noticing that.

Minutes passed and still, he couldn't see Saiga-san. Couldn't tell if he was already standing in front of a machine that spat tickets out or if he was meandering his way across. Rikuo's skin was clammy, sweat-shined and as he removed his hand from Rikuo's lax fingers, he wished they were on their way. Out of Tokyo, out to somewhere and that Rikuo would feel better. Would be able to sleep on the train, eyes closed against the sun and that the gentle motion of the _shinkansen_ would keep that illusory peace true.

Then, he realized something. Threw his arm around Rikuo's shoulders.

Tension grew in the lines, voices civil and quiet now raised in protest. Something or someone – perhaps many someones – was disturbing the general flow, breaking through. Making sure his back covered most of Rikuo, Kazahaya counted down like a child hoping for mom or dad to come to the rescue by the time he hit 'one'. Saiga-san's precautions had taken root; their adversaries were hard to deter and he still didn't know where they were going.

"Boy, come on!"

A large hand yanking him off Rikuo. Sunglasses in his face, quickly looking down. "Come on, Rikuo. Let's get you out of here." Two arms reached out, grabbed a hold of the young psychic, cradling him against a massive chest. "Take the tickets."

Without a word, Kazahaya seized them and ran. Saiga-san allowed no pursuit, no trace of their existence here. Sounds from behind – men's voices – and in his haste, Kazahaya bumped into a businessman. The leatherette briefcase slapped hard against his side, sprawling him. "Watch your step!"

"Boy, hurry!"

The businessman was out of sight but the voices behind him continued. A quick glance had him scrambling for the tickets, then up and running after the larger man's receding form. More and more people – thank the merciful gods – and Kazahaya saw then where Saiga-san led them. An overhead sign marked 'Nagoya' in both _kanji _and English, lit from within. Nagoya. The city of skiing and snow. Winter there would feel longer.

Two hours away.

No wonder Saiga-san didn't want to leave.

Kakei-san...

Fighting his way towards Saiga-san's broad back, apologizing for his bag blocking and bumping into other people, Kazahaya caught up. He couldn't hear or see their pursuers, but the intercom system suddenly erupted into a rapid torrent. The only things he heard as the train approached were "police" and "two men at the Nagoya track". A massive crush of bodies, the brushing of someone's hand near his back and the train whistled in, wind whipping through sharp and furious. More voices from behind, authoritative tones and the doors sprang open. Kazahaya moved; the forward momentum pushed him inward, through the gaping entrance and deposited him through the first compartment.

"Over here, boy." Saiga-san nodding right towards an empty car. "This one's open with enough seats for us. Best fill it before it's too late."

Joining the older man and Rikuo in the three seater, Kazahaya slung his bag down. It nestled between his feet, wedged under his shoes. The seats were comfortable, large and plush and gave him plenty of room to stretch his legs. Saiga-san was enormous in his but if the man's expression of relief was evident, it was a perfect fit. Kazahaya's mirth was cut short when he turned to Rikuo, half-smile disappearing.

"Rikuo?"

"Leave him alone," Saiga-san said, intercepting him before he could touch Rikuo. "He'll be okay. Been a long day for all of us. Longer for him."

Rikuo was unconscious, eyes closed. Head tilted sideways onto Saiga-san's shoulder, he looked asleep, if not for the intense pallor of his skin. Hair in his eyes, mussed from the exertion of their escape and clothes rumpled from being carried. Wrung out as he was; his arms hung slack against his sides and not, as Kazahaya remembered, wrapped around his stomach. Around whatever pain he fought until he couldn't fight it anymore.

"He never took the pills."

"Kakei was right. Let him have his pride until he drops, at least for now. Can't say he didn't try, right?" The other man leaned back, eyes falling to half-mast and then opening again. "That was a close one. Didn't think we'd make it."

"But how?" he whispered, keeping his voice low for security's sake. "How'd we get away?"

"It's Kakei, springing his trap. Here," and Saiga-san dug his cell phone from his pocket. "You can look through the text messages if you like. I have no doubt Kakei deleted his as soon as possible." Pause. "You can keep those, though. He just needs to make sure he's safe."

_You're hoping he's safe, right, Saiga-san?_

"It'll be a while before we hit Nagoya, so I'm getting some shut-eye. If you're still up by then, give me a shake. I'll take care of Rikuo."

"Okay."

The _shinkansen_ was quiet and peaceful, punctuated periodically by someone's phone conversation or cough. Smooth, the train flying over the rails and Kazahaya scrolled through the first of Saiga-san's text messages before the motion could lull him to sleep. Several from Kakei-san and the second text message stopped him, eyes widening in sheer awe. He was sure, very sure, that if someone looked over, they'd see him illuminated by the tiny screen of Saiga-san's up-to-date phone. The message would probably reflect from his eyeballs, so amazing it was.

_Saiga,_

_You need not worry about the obvious once you hit the_

_train station. We know people of Yoshiro's ilk will send_

_spies to track you. They will not apprehend you or the_

_boys. Shinagawa Station's going to receive a call from_

_an unknown person, letting them know of several men_

_with devious intentions. They can't deny it and it'll give_

_you suitable time to get away. Hopefully, that will be_

_enough of a delay. How's Rikuo holding up? Is he doing_

_well? When you get to your destination, let him know_

_I said "Hi" and wish him the best of luck and fortitude_

_in holding on. That's all I can offer him for now. Kudou-kun,_

_if you're reading this, best of luck to you, too. Hang in there_

_and be good to Saiga as well, okay? He's going to need_

_someone to talk to, now that I'm not with him. Gotta_

_run before things start looking suspicious._

_Love, Kakei_


	23. Amber Fog

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 23**

Nagoya was different from Tokyo, despite being another city. This, Kazahaya surmised as he looked down at the stretch of cityscape from the tiny balcony of their new apartment. Nagoya was not only more wintry – snow still on the ground and ice in the air – but everything about it felt unique. A lot more tradition in terms of shrines – Atsuta being the main one – and a lot of museums from the pamphlets Saiga-san gave him. Art museums with those fancy paintings and sculptures. Neat, if only he could see them. Breathing in, he exhaled a frosty puff of air.

A few more weeks and then March. Spring rolling through and the sheen of ice and mist gone, pulling back to let in the sun and flowers. He wondered how Kakei-san was holding up – if he was okay after that trick he'd pulled – and how Saiga-san was as well, mentally. The man didn't speak much and Kakei-san's suggestion prodded at him. He'd seen the man open his phone, stare at the screen, close it, and return to whatever he was doing.

For Saiga-san, that'd be sleeping.

Behind him, the door rolled open and closed, sliding back smooth and quiet. Footsteps, slow and cautious edged around him, moved next to him. He knew those arms, sleeved in weatherproofed black fabric, cuffed at the wrists. He knew those hands, scars on individual fingers; bones straight and elegant except on the one that had been broken. Kazahaya knew but didn't look. He waited. The wind passed them by, carrying the last few traces of a fading season.

Waited and heard silence.

"Kazahaya."

His name dropping into that silence like a bird in mid-flight, wings opening to soar. Rikuo's voice low, as if afraid to vocalize more. Without saying a word, Kazahaya reached out, touched his hand. Waited. Felt Rikuo reciprocate, fingers closing around his in a gentle grip. A small gesture of theirs, if Rikuo was willing. That was always the key. Let Rikuo decide – don't push him. Not now. Not ever.

"Couldn't take it in there anymore?"

"Saiga's sleeping. It's too quiet." That got his attention; he turned, looking at Rikuo. It disconcerted him to see Rikuo's discerning gaze, calm beneath the storm. Easy to forget that in that turbulent mind, Rikuo was still thinking, trying to put the broken pieces together. His eyes in this light were clear green. "Couldn't stay in there to hear myself think."

"Are you a mind reader now?"

His light teasing went over Rikuo's head, slid off him like snowflakes. "No."

"Oh. I just thought...you know, that I thought you knew –"

"It's not my specialty, Kazahaya." Pause. "Don't know what I am now."

"You're still a telekinetic, Rikuo." His turn to stop; to judge his words. "That hasn't changed. You just need to...what's the term...relearn it? I'm sure Saiga-san will help."

"Kakei knows more about that than Saiga does."

"Oh."

"Besides," Rikuo leaning against the railing, windswept dark hair cresting over his eyes, "I can't ask him now." Another pause; one too many. "I think he misses Kakei."

The other man being asleep wasn't strange, considering the circumstances. Then again, wasn't Saiga-san always sleeping, even if his pillow of choice was Kakei-san's lap? Kazahaya flushed, remembering. His cheeks felt warm, probably pink in the light and obvious in the chill. He hoped Rikuo would pass it off as something else. Next to him, his fellow psychic fell silent, staring out at the wide expanse of city beneath them. Nagoya stirred in the winter winds, just another city in everyday Japan.

"Why did you do it, Rikuo?"

Rikuo didn't say anything at first, as if shying away from his question. His hand tensed, clutching Kazahaya's fingers hard. Kazahaya winced. The pressure immediately lifted; Rikuo's fingers loosening in agitated haste.

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

Rikuo stood transfixed, as if pinned down by the enormity of answering. To Kazahaya's chagrin, Rikuo's expression subtly changed. Walls in his eyes and a sudden shield between them. He felt it, dammit and stood rooted in place as well, watching Rikuo struggle. Listening to the sibilant whispering of the wind around them, adding in sound where none existed. Overhead, some birds flew by, migratory patterns in full emergence.

He counted more than two minutes.

Three.

Four.

He was about to tally five when Rikuo spoke. "You know why, Kazahaya."

"You don't want me involved."

"It's more than that." Never much of a speaker, Rikuo looked as if the words were stuck in his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed as reflexive swallowing overtook speech. Here on the balcony, in a space so small, Rikuo was so tall and yet, so overwhelmed. Another step and he would be closer to him. Close enough to hug and convey "I understand." Kazahaya didn't move. Just stood, waiting.

"I want you safe. I want you away."

"From them."

"From me." The words hit him hard but he glimpsed the painful blow uttering them did to Rikuo. He reached out; taking that step and Rikuo let him. There was a glimmer in those eyes but Rikuo didn't cry. Not today. Not right now. "I can't let them get you, you know that, right?"

"But why do they want me?"

"I can't say."

He doesn't hug Rikuo; felt Rikuo wasn't ready. Instead, he stood aside, hands tucked into his jacket pockets and waited. Tension around Rikuo's mouth, muscles tight and apprehension in his green gaze. Almost as if he wanted to say something. The hands behind the psychic curled around the railings, scars stretched shiny. The veins pop, too prominent against thin skin.

"Kazahaya...you shouldn't get so close to me."

"But I thought –"

"I don't really..." Rikuo's eyes closed. Opened. "I know what you're trying to do but...I see the way you look at me sometimes and..."

"Rikuo?"

"It scares me, Kazahaya. I don't want...I don't need to..."

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Rikuo. I just want to –"

"I know." Pause. "That's the problem, Kazahaya. I can't go through that...again."

"Oh."

Overhead, more birds flew by, following an internal compass to warmer lands. Their clothes rustled, weatherproof fabrics rippling in the wind and Rikuo's dark hair fell over his eyes. Kazahaya was at a loss; didn't know what to say. He dared not bring up Tsukiko; although, Rikuo indirectly referred to her. The center of that core of pain, regardless of what else he'd suffered. He wouldn't re-open that wound, if it ever closed.

Silence. The temperature warming as the sun wheeled above, light and heat coming down.

Rikuo pushing off the railing, heading indoors. Not a word uttered.

The glass door sliding left, then right. Closing with a silent click.

Kazahaya followed him inside.

Found him sitting on his bed in their room, face to the wall; hands between his lap. His profile still but not serene. A slight trembling of the lower lip, quickly reined in. Private pain; he shouldn't be intruding. Kazahaya lingered, unsure what to do. Rikuo was still hard to read in some regards – this being one of them. But he couldn't leave now that he was here. What was he to do?

"Do you want something, Kazahaya?"

Pain leeching into Rikuo's voice. It pained Kazahaya just to hear it. "I...uh..."

"If you have something to say, say it."

_Or else leave me alone._ That was the gist he got from Rikuo's tone, weariness softening the ragged edges of pain. Rikuo hadn't turned around to see him. Having been through this before, Kazahaya kept the seed of impatience from taking root. Didn't move. Considered the situation, Rikuo's behavior, and his words.

Said them.

"Rikuo...I don't know what you want. You seem to...how to say it? You want to be near me but then you're afraid to get close. Pushing me away even though you want to protect me. I...don't know to deal with that, Rikuo. I'm not you. I'm just..."

That got Rikuo turned around, facing him. "Don't go there, Kazahaya."

"I can't help it, Rikuo. I just..."

They could've been frozen in this room, encapsulated in this box for eternity and Kazahaya would've waited, forever, to hear the conversation close. Sunlight falling from the window opposite Rikuo, warm light spilling onto double beds swathed with dark gray comforters and finished with plumb white pillows. Rikuo's hands on the bedspread, fingers tensed and the silken sheen of black fabric twisting around the younger man's arms.

Kazahaya waited.

"You care too much, Kazahaya."

"That's not a bad thing."

"It is." An admission of sorts. "Look at me."

The unspoken name. Tsukiko. _Look at me...look at how I cared...how much I lost._ Which meant that Rikuo did care, which meant... Kazahaya had to sit down. Hoping his knees weren't weak and trembling, he managed to walk over to his bed and lie down. The pillow was puffy – new? – and the comforter was some insane thread count. Trust Saiga-san to shell out the yen to make this a home away from home.

Green Drugstore. Kakei-san.

He closed his eyes.

"Rikuo?"

A moment of silence. Sunlight golden in the curved periphery of his eyelids.

"What?"

"I don't mind caring. I just...well...need to know if you..."

"If I care."

Trust Rikuo to know him well, still. Something in Rikuo's tone there, akin to getting a fishhook snagged in his throat. A longer pause that filled the room, flowing into the gap between them. He allowed Rikuo his silences, understood where they came from. The thread count beneath his hands was extraordinary, like something out of a hotel. Saiga-san really didn't have to go through all this trouble, he thought. He didn't know if Rikuo was aware of it, yet.

A faint squeak from the other bed. He opened his eyes. Sat up.

Rikuo was on the floor, arms around his knees. He knew this posture, this withdrawal. Waited yet again, along with all the prolonged silences that made up this afternoon. Nothing but this waiting between them – psychic to psychic and none of their abilities made a difference.

"Kazahaya..."

"Rikuo?"

"Can you leave me alone for a minute?" An apology framed in that morose green gaze. "I'm sorry...I just can't..."

"It's okay, Rikuo. I understand." He did.

"Thank you."

This time, they had a door. Quietly, gently, Kazahaya closed it on his way out. Took a deep breath and went back towards the balcony. The light had changed, subtly, and he could spend his time out there, waiting. Waiting while seeing Nagoya in its paler glow, birds overhead.

Time enough until dinner to head back in.

Time enough for Rikuo to come to terms with that unanswered question.

* * *

"Kakei," Saiga-san on his cell phone, device glued to his ear, "what are you saying? They're gone? Left you alone?"

From where Kazahaya stood, he heard his boss's sharp pronunciation over the speaker. He couldn't make out what Kakei-san said but it was easy to infer from Saiga-san's replies. Scooping rice into three small ceramic bowls, he placed the scooper back into its place on the rice cooker and closed the lid. Saiga-san reached over and took one from him, nodding towards the other bowls. "It's all right," he said. "Lighten your load."

"Thanks, Saiga-san."

"Huh? Oh, that was me helping the boy out. Not Rikuo. He's in their room now. I don't know what for. He's okay, Kakei. I don't think they had a fight." A small shrug in his direction. "So, Mr. Fancy Suit is gone, huh? Where are you right now?"

The chopsticks went on the table. It was round, not square and some sort of plastic mimicking wood. The chairs were simple, plastic with metal supports. Not that Kazahaya wanted better – this was better than nothing.

"But they couldn't have... You think they did? That's why you're in the break room?"

Noise over the phone.

"I see. Watch yourself, love. A shame I can't be there."

Silence.

"Kakei?"

Some more noise over the line, syllabic gentleness.

"I love you, too. Take care, okay? Try to get some sleep tonight – don't worry yourself over us too much. Heh, I know. I'll be careful, too. Good night."

He waited until the older man put the phone away and joined him by the table. "How's Kakei-san doing?"

"He's okay. Seems Yoshiro left but Kakei thinks they might have surveillance on him. Still playing it safe, just as we are. Shame I can't take you boys out. Nagoya's supposed to be beautiful once March rolls around."

"We're staying in, huh?"

"'Fraid so, my boy. Can't have anyone tracking us, see. They already know we ended up in Nagoya as far as I'm concerned. Don't need to give them any extra help. Rikuo's not joining us?"

"I didn't say I wasn't."

Kazahaya turned, removing his hand from a dish of soybeans before he could drop it. Rikuo looked at him – unreadable expression – and nodded at Saiga-san. Didn't ask any questions about Kakei-san or if he'd missed anything. How much had he heard and how long had he been behind them, also waiting? So much of that today, as if time extended for them both.

"Good to have you here, Rikuo."

"Thanks, Saiga." Rikuo pulling his chair out, sitting down with them. The sensation was strange; it'd been a while since they'd eaten together like this. Saiga-san was a weird addition, come to think of it. The man dwarfed them with impressive size alone. Placing his palms together, Kazahaya joined the others, preparing for gratitude for the meal.

"_Itadakimasu_."

Gratitude given, he picked his chopsticks off the table and started on the rice. Nice to see that Saiga-san adhered to polite convention. Rikuo murmured it but the effort seemed halfhearted. It wasn't like Rikuo to give thanks for the food; never had, always had the paper with him. Kazahaya remembered that detail and also recalled Rikuo's refusal to touch a newspaper ever again. Something about Tsukiko's death and subsequent disappearance.

He wasn't about to bring it up.

"You feeling better, boy?"

"I'm all right." Rikuo's voice low and colorless. "It doesn't hurt...now."

"How's your sleep?"

Silence. "I manage."

Kazahaya kept quiet, knowing a lot about Rikuo's sleep cycles. Rikuo was still having nightmares but like the other boy told him, he was getting good at waking himself up. He'd no idea how many times he'd slept past that, leaving Rikuo to a solitary battle. But how does one – how would Rikuo or he – fight those images, those impressions, those memories corroded deep into the soul? Stamped into the mind awake or asleep? How?

He didn't know the answer.

"Are you taking the pills?" Saiga-san's tone gentle.

"Only if I have to."

"Don't begrudge them. Take them if you need it. I can always call Kakei."

"Did Kakei call?"

Saiga's chopsticks lowered, clinking against the rim of his bowl. The bowl of rice went back on the table. Kazahaya thought the older man looked bereft, suddenly, in that moment. Missing someone. Missing Kakei-san.

"He did. We need to be careful, Rikuo. He thinks someone might've bugged the place. Might be listening in. We have to take extra precautions. This goes for you and the kid."

"But if..." Pause. "If he's bugged, how's he –"

"Kakei's smart. He improvised. Found a place no one's getting into."

"Where?"

"You probably know it. Can figure it out."

Rikuo's expression changed, puzzlement turning into awareness. The flicker of that understanding lit his eyes, effused his face. "The break room."

"Right. Clever, isn't it?"

"It's your bedroom. Did Kakei count on that?"

Saiga-san shrugged and reached for the bowl and chopsticks again. Some soybeans went from the plate into the older man's mouth. Kazahaya picked at his rice, decided against it, and reached instead for a platter of fish. Rikuo, he'd noticed, wasn't eating much.

"He's the boss. He'll know best."

"Ah." The slight sound of plastic against ceramic.

"Eat some more, boy. Got some good stuff for the both of you – don't let it go to waste."

"Saiga-san cooked the fish," Kazahaya said, eating a sliver of the meat. "I did the rice."

Rikuo shook his head and that motion, somehow, comforted Kazahaya. It felt normal. It felt...felt like Rikuo all over again.

"It's good."

"Only the best for you boys."

An easier silence, one that Kazahaya felt he could move in; let the conversation idle down and fade without strangeness. A simple dinner. Fish and soybeans and rice. Saiga-san with his black shades, eyebrows and tone of voice giving away what his hidden eyes couldn't. The older man was the first to finish his meal, excusing himself. Kazahaya caught sight of the cell phone in Saiga-san's hands again, fingers clicking away over the miniature keyboard. Possibly another text message to Kakei-san.

Good to know he wasn't the only one feeling the loss.

"Kazahaya."

Rikuo's voice catching his attention, drifting him back towards his roommate. "What?"

"The rice was a bit dry."

_"What?"_ Decibels rising out of surprise. "But how? I measured and –"

"I thought about what you asked me earlier."

That clapped his mouth shut, even as a part of him realized what Rikuo had done. Realized and wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. _They haven't destroyed you completely, Rikuo. Don't you see? Can you hear yourself?_

"You asked me if I cared. For you. I..."

Waiting.

"I guess...I think..."

_Don't say anything, Kazahaya. Listen._

"I mean...I do but...I can't..." Another moment of silence. Rikuo looking at him but as if past him. As if something was there, obstructing him. "Kazahaya, I can't let go of her. Not yet. I'm sorry."

Tsukiko.

He should've seen it coming. Still, the knowledge that her death lingered long, effectively blocking Rikuo's affection for him, hurt. A pang in the heart – small; nothing in comparison – and Kazahaya blocked his own pain, remembering Rikuo's. Seeing the expression in his eyes, on his face – lines of guilt and anguish and the images of blood and a girl – and Kazahaya decided he had to move them past this moment. Past sitting here at a lonely kitchen table, utensils and bowls unkempt and he came across the idea. Quite normal, actually.

It just might work.

"Rikuo, um..." His nervousness wasn't feigned. "Can you help me with the dishes?"

"What?" Rikuo easing out of the past, expression focused on him. "The dishes?"

"Yeah. Saiga-san helped me before, because there's a lot of plates and bowls and...I can take some. You don't need to help me with all of them."

"Do you need me to dry them?" The tone was pure Rikuo, albeit without sarcasm.

"That'd be nice."

"Where'd you like me to start?"

"I dunno. Maybe your own?" Kazahaya picked up his bowl, giving his hands something to hold. He didn't touch Rikuo – not after that look in the other boy's eyes. "I think I might need some help with the fish platter. Saiga-san took care of that one."

"I see why."

"Thanks, Rikuo."

Another pause. A day of waiting. "I'm sorry, Kazahaya."

"For what?"

"For earlier."

"It's okay, Rikuo." His own silence, falling into the gaps. "Come on, let's get this done. Saiga-san said Nagoya's quite beautiful at night. I've only been out on the balcony during the day. Would like to see it tonight. Would you, uh, like to join me?"

"I...don't see why not."

"Okay. Well, the fish goes in the refrigerator and...I'll take care of the rice."

"You would."

"Rikuo...oh never mind."


	24. Umber Sun

**LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC**

**Title: Sanguine**

**Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)**

**CHAPTER 24**

"Rikuo, feel the air!" His hand against the screen, imprinting small webs on the flesh of his palm. "It's changing. It's spring!"

Rikuo came over, footfalls silent against the floor and extended his hand. The size of his palm would easily overlap his, Kazahaya saw but the other boy didn't make contact. A fresh breeze traveled in their direction, hints of warmth beneath the thawing chill and the smell of it reminded Kazahaya of cherry blossoms. Not yet – not for a while – but he remembered the fragrance as a harbinger of spring. A memory of sorts. Memories of Kei.

"You're right. It is." Rikuo's voice dry. "It's March, after all."

A reticent Rikuo was nothing new and Kazahaya didn't ask him to elaborate. A brief glance gave him an expressionless face and he looked away. Better not to go there. Slowly, he withdrew his hand, feeling the last gusts of warmth and reached for the window to pull it down. Rikuo pulled away from him, away from the window and spring shuttered out of their shared room. Only sunshine remained, golden and mellow.

It diffused throughout the room, onto the walls and in between these walls, Rikuo and he stood. It was Rikuo who sat first, quiet and solemn, on the bed, reclining against the backboard. Beneath dark hair, dark lashes closed and Rikuo's throat bared itself as his head leaned back. From here, his skin was pale and for an instant, Kazahaya imagined a crimson rictus across Rikuo's throat. Startled, he blinked, the vision vanishing.

He shuddered.

"Saiga hasn't said much about Kakei."

Was Rikuo initiating the conversation? That was a first. "Maybe nothing's happening."

"Maybe. But it's not like Saiga." Rikuo looking at him now, gaze unreadable. "Should we ask him?"

"To see if everything's okay?" He started to shrug but stopped. "It won't hurt. Do you think he'll mind?"

"I don't know. It's not like him."

_Why the concern? _He wanted to ask but Rikuo was leading him somewhere and he didn't want to reach the destination ahead of time. He wasn't sure if anything he said would lead to accidental triggers. Gods, he hoped not.

"Maybe after he wakes up." Saiga-san sleeping again. Whether it was from exhaustion or a part of his psychic ability that Kazahaya still couldn't figure out, the man deserved his rest. Getting them settled in – two grown boys – in a strange city that wasn't Tokyo while being chased by known criminal elements was more than scary. It was stressful. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I'm worried about Kakei."

"He is, too, Rikuo."

"I know. It's just..." A small sigh. "I'm responsible for it."

"Don't, Rikuo." _Don't go there. Please._ "He made up his mind. Saiga-san tried to convince him otherwise, but you know Kakei-san. Once he's made _his_ choice, he doesn't back down. He's like you, kinda...I think."

"He's nothing like me." Rikuo's jaw tightened; eyes hard. "He could make a choice."

"_You_ made a choice, too, Rikuo. You made that deal with Yoshiro."

"Which is why I'm responsible."

"Goddammit, Rikuo." His voice rose too high. Clamping his mouth shut, Kazahaya strode over to the door and closed it. The knob dug into the lower vertebrae of his spine as he turned around, leaning his weight upon it. "Why do you always do this to yourself? Why is it always your fault?"

"Why are you here? It's because of me. It's why Kakei's not here and Saiga knows that."

"You think he hates you?"

"If something happens to Kakei..."

"Rikuo, he won't. Believe me – he can't allow himself to."

"He can lie to himself." Rikuo shifted on the bed, hands covering his face. His voice was muffled, some syllables blurring together into incoherency. "I lied...you can always lie...doesn't change the truth."

"You lied...to whom?"

"Who do you think?" Rikuo wasn't looking at him. "Who would I lie to?"

Kazahaya never liked calling himself obtuse or stupid but some concepts took time for him to understand. This one, however, lingered evanescent, teasing him. He grasped for it, felt it slipping out of his mental grip and lunged for it. Who was Rikuo talking about? Why would Rikuo lie? Why would Rikuo...

The mental gears clicked, snapping together into a unified coalescence of thought. No. No, it couldn't be. But why?

"Rikuo?"

"You know, don't you?" The other psychic's fingers barricaded his face; he could only read Rikuo's emotional level from his voice. The dark undertone and flat resignation. "Who it is."

"But why?"

"Ask Saiga if Kakei gets hurt. It won't matter who you ask then."

"No, but why _you_? Why _yourself_?"

"How else was I to endure?" The temporary image again, superimposed over Rikuo's bowed form – scarlet smile of blood – and Kazahaya shivered, gripping his arms tight. "Tell me, Kazahaya. What would you do...in my place?" The last few words were forced out, strained as if Rikuo couldn't say them out loud.

_"What?"_

"Would you survive? Or would you break, Kazahaya?"

"What does that have to do with –"

"I told myself I could tolerate it. That they weren't hurting me that badly. That I wasn't breaking. That they weren't breaking me. That I wouldn't break." Rikuo's ragged sigh verged on tears. "Lies. I tried to believe them. Then, when she..."

_Tsukiko?_

"She died and I...I hated him. Hated him for taking her away. I blamed him for everything. But that was a lie, too. You see it, don't you, Kazahaya?"

He did. He wished he didn't.

"Because I lied to myself. Saiga will lie to himself, too. He'll say he blames himself but it's me he'll hate. Because I started it all."

"He won't!"

"He will." Rikuo raised his head; Kazahaya shivered at his tearless eyes. "Just like how I told myself I hated Toshiya for killing Tsukiko." Rikuo's mouth twisted. "But you know who I really hate, don't you, Kazahaya?"

He knew. He didn't want to say it.

"Rikuo..."

"Tell me, Kazahaya."

He couldn't do it. Instead, he asked Rikuo another question; anything to break this stalemate. "Why, Rikuo? Why now?" _Why when we're safe here?_

"You said it yourself. It's spring."

"But what does that have to do with this?"

"Think, Kazahaya."

He couldn't figure out what Rikuo was getting at, what point he was trying to make. Spring. Okay, that was obvious but how did spring tie into Rikuo being like this and asking him these bizarre questions? And why was he so worried about Kakei-san – who could take care of himself – and Saiga-san? Why was he so worried about Saiga-san hating him?

What was the root issue here – the thing that caused Rikuo to think this?

Why, after three weeks of relative quiet?

"Kazahaya?"

He didn't answer; not yet. Spring. March. What happened in March besides the girls' Doll's Festival, which was already over? What other day... Oh no.

He met Rikuo's desperate gaze, disbelieving. "Rikuo, it's not..."

"Yes. It is."

White Day. He'd almost forgotten it in their rush for shelter and safety. Forgotten it because they were nestled here, in Nagoya, like birds in a new nest and he hadn't thought about it. He'd no girlfriend to give chocolates, so it didn't affect him. Green Drugstore was two hours away by train and Kakei-san would be setting up shop for such a holiday. But he wasn't there working as a clerk, so it never crossed his mind.

But Rikuo had been thinking it. Worrying over it. Because...

"Rikuo?"

"Tsukiko liked it. She once did."

Kazahaya couldn't help but notice the past tense Rikuo used, as if twisting the knife of his agony deeper into the gaping wound. Again, the image of Tsukiko and her open throat flickered before him and the older psychic blanched. He didn't want to remember it from Rikuo's memories but he did. That, and Rikuo was now openly speaking about Tsukiko. The main cause of this hurt, of this ache. Of _those_ questions.

Kakei-san and Saiga-san. _Of course._

"You think Saiga-san –"

"I don't think. I know. He gives Kakei chocolates every White Day...like I once did...for her."

So much pain here, and it was in the room – carried from Shinjuku, Tokyo over to Nagoya in one of their many wards – and Rikuo was on the bed, hunched over and vulnerable. Kazahaya uncrossed his arms, letting them fall slack to his sides and crossed the room. It didn't take long before he sat across from Rikuo, wanting to hold him and tell him he was here. But he couldn't do it – not now – and he sat and waited.

Waited for Rikuo to continue.

He'd never heard so much from Rikuo. So much about Tsukiko and his past life with her. White Day. He tried to imagine Rikuo giving her chocolates and surprised himself when he could. Their relationship had changed in an imperceptible way. A few months ago, he wouldn't have been able to see Rikuo as anything else but cold, irascible, and sour-faced. Now, he saw as if through a foggy lens, the possibility of Rikuo being gracious, being kind, being everything the girls at the store dreamed of when it came to their tall, dark, and handsome. Rikuo giving Tsukiko a small box of chocolates. She might have laughed – she had a pretty voice. Had.

He winced. Rikuo started at his reaction, pupils dilating.

"Kazahaya?"

A different tone of voice there. Was it alarm or surprise?

"Rikuo..." An errant thought, sudden. "Did you, uh, have a nightmare last night?"

That was it.

The other boy paled, skin whitening. His scars stood out, mapped over once-broken skin. "How...?"

"It couldn't have just been White Day," Kazahaya heard himself say, keeping his voice gentle and soft. "I'm always afraid, Rikuo, that I won't understand enough to help you. I'm afraid of triggering you, of saying something wrong. I don't hate this. I don't hate you. I hate seeing you like this."

"But..."

"You have nightmares, Rikuo. Nightmares I can't see because you won't let me. I understand," he said as Rikuo opened his mouth again to speak. "You're protecting me. You always do. Even now. I know that much, Rikuo. Maybe we're even there. But only something like that – something you remember – would make you like this."

"Kazahaya..."

"Was it bad?"

A brief nod. Rikuo's eyes disappearing behind his sleeve. Silence falling, poignant.

"I won't ask."

"Thank you." Steel behind the shattered remains. He wasn't going to see Rikuo cry.

"Saiga-san's still asleep." He hadn't heard any sounds outside their door.

"He needs it."

"He doesn't hate you, Rikuo. Don't think that."

Silence.

"Rikuo..." The mention of his partner's name brought a dry-eyed gaze peering over cotton at him. "Please don't hate yourself. She..." Sacrosanct territory here; be careful, Kazahaya. "I don't think she'll want you doing this to yourself."

"You don't know Tsukiko."

"I know what I saw. She loved you, Rikuo. She won't...I can't imagine her holding that against you."

"But..."

Kazahaya sighed, adding to the many sighs already released in their bedroom. "But what, Rikuo? You hate yourself for losing her, for being unable to protect her? How long will that hatred last, Rikuo? Will you let Toshiya win? Do I have to watch?"

"I...no...I mean..."

"I made a promise a few months ago. I'll be here. I'll help. I know it's hard. Believe me, I do," Kazahaya said, tears in the corners and edges of his eyes. "It's hard to watch you like this. But Saiga-san...Kakei-san...they both..._we_ all agree that you'll pull through. It might not be much –"

"It probably won't." Rikuo's voice almost inaudible.

"But we'll be here. We _wouldn't_ be here if Saiga-san and Kakei-san didn't want to help you. If they hated you like you think. We don't. Please, Rikuo. Don't push me aside. Don't do that."

"I don't –"

"Want to see me get hurt?"

Rikuo said nothing in response; only looked at him, a shadow of pain there, reminiscent of the hollow agony when Tsukiko died in front of him.

"I know you can't let go of her. I can't blame you for that."

"Then you understand."

"I'm not her, Rikuo." An emphatic plea. "Please don't look at me like that."

"It's just so hard."

"I know, Rikuo." Tears slid down his cheeks. Of course. He was the empath – he knew what it was to feel, to immerse himself into others' memories until they became his own. But Rikuo was different. Rikuo was someone he trusted. Someone he now loved. It was different. Kakei-san told him as much.

"You're crying."

A slight trembling in the other boy's voice. Whereas Rikuo stifled his tears, Kazahaya was always ready to shed his own. If it wasn't for how distraught he was, the older psychic might've laughed at the irony. Who'd suffered more? Why was _he_ crying?

"I'm sorry."

"No. I..." Somehow, Rikuo had gotten closer, concern in the faint lines of his face. "I didn't mean to...hurt you like..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"No." Rikuo's fingers on his shoulder, touch feather-light. "I'm sorry."

Sniffling, he met Rikuo's anxious gaze. The emotion that welled within him had no name – it was just _there_ – and he trembled, wondering if it was from Rikuo's touch. He didn't do it this time; Rikuo did. Was that a change? Something different? As if Rikuo read his mind, the warmth of his roommate's hand left; only the impression that it once lingered there now a mild sensation through his shirt. He remained quiet, contemplating.

A few seconds passed. Nothing.

Then Rikuo spoke, mildness replacing tension. "I never want to hurt you. You know that, Kazahaya."

His name said as effortless and soft as a spring breeze riding in on a March wind. The wind carried away many things. Carried them faraway to places unimaginable. Kei – flowers and kimonos and bells – said his name was an ill portent; that the wind swept away many of them to a bad end. The wind didn't carry him out of the Kudou estate, out from beyond the gate and fences and guards but he'd left all the same. A bad end, nearly – December and snow and many unknown faces – but Rikuo found him.

So, here he was.

December and snow and a dark alley with blood on the wall. A bad end, nearly but they found Rikuo before it was too late.

So, here _he_ was.

So, here he was, looking at him, studying him back with that half-veiled expression, trust and care and fear warring behind those eyes. The nightmares always hung dark and foreboding there, drapes of anguish and indescribable horror and it was a nightmare that triggered this conversation. That led them to this crux.

Kazahaya lifted his head, took a quick glance around.

Golden afternoon, through and through. Sunlight through glass and gold on the walls.

Rikuo sat across from him, still and watchful.

Waiting.

"I know, Rikuo." The boy's name familiar on his tongue. Effortless as well. "I know."

A breath shuddered out of Rikuo; Kazahaya hadn't realized just how important it was, which meant something. _I don't hate you, Rikuo. I never will._

"Are you okay?"

Rikuo nodded, which was answer enough. At least for now.

"Do you still want me to ask Saiga-san what's going on with Kakei-san? See if he's doing all right?"

"No. I'll ask."

"He doesn't hate you, Rikuo. He won't mind."

"I know. I'm just always afraid he does."

* * *

Saiga-san's shades were askew, indicative of a lengthy slumber. The large man wandered into the kitchen in a bathrobe, headed for the fridge and began muttering something. Kazahaya cradled his bowl of rice and eggs – Japanese-style – and clicked his chopsticks, glancing at Rikuo as Saiga-san joined them. "It's that time already?" The man put a mug down and poured out some milk and took a drink. "Have I been asleep that long?"

"Uh...it's not lunch, Saiga-san. We're just having a little snack."

"Little?" Another swallow. "Who cooked? You, boy?"

"Yeah."

"Smells good. Say, you boys up for something special tonight?"

"Like what?"

The shades looked at him and then turned towards Rikuo. "Maybe some fish. Something different, you know? Aren't you boys tired of your usual stuff already?"

Kazahaya looked at Rikuo, who glanced at him.

"I take that's a 'yes', right?"

"I guess."

"Okay, then. You know the drill. Listen for my signal and don't open the door for anyone else. Worked fine for the past few weeks, right? Lemme finish this and then I'm going shopping. Need anything else like soap or shampoo?"

"I don't think so."

"Good. That's settled, then."

"Saiga." Rikuo's tone tense; Kazahaya thought he'd never speak. "How's Kakei doing?"

"Why'd you ask, Rikuo?"

"You haven't...said anything about him for a while. I thought –"

"He's doing all right. Been busy, that's all. Not too easy unloading those boxes. Restocking those shelves by himself. A holiday's around the corner, after all – he needs to be ready. No, don't worry yourself, Rikuo. Kakei will let me know if anything's wrong. He's good about that."

What Saiga-san had probably mistaken for further concern Kazahaya realized. Rikuo's sudden change of color coincided with the holiday comment. White Day. He couldn't go into Rikuo or Saiga-san's mind – he was no mind reader – to see what each thought about it but guessing Rikuo's was easier. Was he feeling guilty again now that Saiga-san offhandedly mentioned it? Hard, too, to read Saiga-san's expression. The shades did a good job hiding the man behind it.

"That's...that's good."

He wanted to reach across and hold Rikuo's hand. A new habit, this – Rikuo's nervous clenching of his fingers; the nails white along with the scars.

"It's okay, Rikuo. Kakei-san's fine."

From the corner of his eye, Saiga-san's covered visage stared at him – at them – as if curious. "Did something happen while I was asleep?"

Kazahaya didn't reply. Rikuo's gaze lifted, meeting his.

Yeah, they were going to be all right.


End file.
